The Agency
by Helene Fyne
Summary: Claire Bennet and Gabriel Gray have a lot in common, not the least of which are their involvement in the Agency, their regenerative abilities, and their son. Set post Brave New World.
1. The Watchmaker

**Chapter One: The Watchmaker**

The shop was not well lit. Of the six over-head lights in the patron area, only four were working, and of the four, two gave only inconsistent, half hearted flickers. Dust swirled haphazardly in the air—the place hadn't been cleaned in a long time—and the chaotic ticking of a hundred clocks filled the air.

The shop owner stood behind a long wooden counter. The surface was scarred and covered in watch faces and cogs. He seemed intent on the project at hand, a battered old pocket watch he had disassembled and was peering at through magnifying glasses. The pieces were small and intricate, sitting together just the way they were supposed to. Still, they did not run.

Sighing, the man bent down, tweezers in hand as he carefully removed the ratchot and barrel bridge. Neither seemed to be damaged, in fact, it looked as if they'd both been replaced recently. Setting them aside he continued on. He continued his work, removing each miniscule piece and setting them in a particular pattern across his work space, the innermost pieces closest to his hands. It didn't take him long to work. He found the broken bit easily and went into the back, retrieving a spare of the same make and sliding it effortlessly into place. His eyes strained as he worked, his jaw clenched tight.

When he was finished, the watchmaker set the refurbished time-piece aside and sat on the stool to his left, letting his head fall forward and breathing deeply. He was content at his work, listening to the clocks on the walls tick the minutes by in sync. He lost track of time there, letting the seconds pace his heart-beat and his mind wander. It was a special form of meditation.

The bell over the shop's door interrupted his repose.

"Gabriel," the woman in the doorway nodded as the door swung shut behind her. He looked up, half-way startled as he met her gaze and tilted his head in response.

"Hello, Claire," he said.

The dust particles swirled around her as she moved, flashing in the light that filtered through the window shades and landing on her skin. She tried to bat them away as she squinted, making her way forward and to the counter where she leant over and rested her weight on her elbows, staring him right in the face.

"Where's Noah?" Gabriel asked, head still tilted to the side and meeting her green eyes with his brown.

"In the car. I only came to pick up his blanket," she said, tapping her fingers along the counter in impatience.

"You left a four year old in a car by himself?" he didn't raise his voice, but the disapproval was evident.

"No, Gabriel," Claire sighed, "He's there with Toby."

Gabriel sneered. "That's a relief."

"I just came for the blanket. He was having trouble sleeping without it."

"If you had waited for me get his things together before taking him, maybe he would have had it last night," Gabriel said. He was keeping his voice low, but the provocation was clear.

"Don't start this again," she said.

"I don't know what you mean."

He watched as she sighed, rubbing her temple and squeezing her eyes shut tight.

"Just get me the god-damned blanket," she ordered. He raised one less than amused eyebrow at her demand. "Please," she added.

"It's not here," Gabriel responded, motioning around the dusty shop, "If you hadn't noticed, I'm at work." Claire grit her teeth as Gabriel rose, grabbing his jacket from the peg behind him and checking his pocket for the keys. "But it's about lunch time. If you let Noah ride with me, we can go get his blanket and be back here by one."

Claire's gaze hardened as she stared up at him. She crossed her arms beneath her chest, which had definitely filled out since their first meeting. He mused over how much had changed since Noah's birth. Claire's breasts, their marriage, his life.

"That isn't an option," she said, bringing him back to the present, "You know what the judge said."

Gabriel sneered. The judge. Daft bint.

"Yeah, something along the lines of 'Fuck you, Mr. Gray.'"

Claire scoffed. "You get him every other weekend Gabriel, any other time is up to me."

"And you don't feel inclined to give me any," he said, careful to keep his tone modulated. Displays of temper weren't likely to result in additional time spent with his son.

Claire chose not to respond and silence reigned in the shop. Finally, Gabriel spoke.

"It's just an hour, Claire. I'll take him to my place, feed him, grab his blanket and have him back to you in no time," he said, trying to sound as persuasive as possible.

She shook her head stubbornly. Gabriel Growled.

"Fine, you explain to him that he's got to learn to sleep without his fucking security blanket because his mother doesn't trust his father to feed him lunch," he snapped, rounding the counter and striding past her towards the shop door. He heard her inhale sharply as he moved, and finally snap.

"Christ," she muttered before jogging after him and grabbing his arm. He stopped and let her turn him around. "You're a dick, do you know that Gabriel?" she asked.

He tried not to smirk, instead keeping his gaze steely.

"I'll give you the hour, but supervised," she said, trying to keep her voice down.

"Unacceptable," he said, voice flat.

She huffed, crossing her arms and staring irately up at him. He supposed it was one of his special talents, pissing her off in less than two minutes.

"What do you want, Gabriel," she said finally, "This is how things are. You agreed in court. You don't get to change the rules to your liking."

He scowled. "I agreed because it was the only way I could see my son," he said, "Not because I thought it was fair."

"Fair, unfair, it doesn't matter," Claire said, "its how things are. Once you demonstrate to me and to the judge that you've turned things around, then maybe we can talk more time. Until then, this is my decision to make."

Gabriel clenched his fist, turning his back on her and walking over to lean against the window. He could see out of the wooded slats covering them. She was driving the Benz today, her newest boyfriend sat in the passenger's seat tapping his fingers across the dash. Gabriel felt the electricity running along his palms.

Behind him, Claire laughed. "And that's why the Judge thought it would be better this way. After all these years you still haven't learned to curb your temper."

He stiffened, peering back at her with hard eyes. "I have never hurt either of you before," he hissed, voice low and deadly, "No matter how sorely you've tempted me over the past two years."

Her spine stiffened in response. "But you could," she said, "Quite easily. The only reason you're not behind bars right now is because of the part you played in agency, and now you're not even doing that. More than enough people have seen what you can do to this world, and every time you lose your temper I see more clearly too," her voice had grown soft and she sounded almost tender as she paused. "I know you're not evil, Gabriel. I'm just not convinced you're in complete control of yourself anymore… and I'm not willing to give you more time with Noah until you are."

He grit his teeth, staring over her shoulder at the ticking clock on the wall. Neither of them spoke as he stared, watching the hands move. There was something painful in his eyes.

"I'm more in control of myself than I ever was as part of that agency," he said finally, "and I will not go back to it, no matter how many hints you people drop."

Claire sighed, rubbing her temple and squeezing her eyes shut tight.

"So, am I taking Noah for lunch or not? You're welcome to follow with your boy-friend and sit outside of the apartment building if it'll make you more comfortable."

Claire bit her lip, looking heavenward and rolling her eyes. "Fine," she muttered. "But you only get 40 minutes of alone time. I have a conference at 1:30 and Noah has to be at Emma's by 1:00."

"I could—" Gabriel began, but Claire cut him off.

"Don't test me," she said, walking past him and out of the shop onto the sidewalk. Gabriel smiled and followed her.

It was bright outside. The sun half blinded him as he squinted and turned around to lock the shop door. He waited for a few more seconds before turning back to the street. His piece-of-shit car was parked in front of hers on the street, and it was probably baking in the heat.

"I'll drive him to your place," Claire said abruptly, "It's easier than moving his seat around." Gabriel just nodded, unlocking the driver's side and starting the car. It only took five minutes to drive from the shop to his apartment building. It was one of the nicer places in the DC area, a three bedroom in Annandale. He had bought it in cash just after the divorce had been finalized, glad that at least one good thing had come from his old job.

There was parking on the street, so both cars pulled in, parallel parking in tiny spaces with ease. Gabriel was the first to arrive, so he locked the car and went to help Claire unload the boy.

He was smiling, that was the first thing Gabriel noticed. Noah was grinning that toothy grin from ear to ear as his mother unbuckled him and swung him from his booster seat to the sidewalk. Gabriel was always stunned by what a beautiful child he was. Light brown hair and wide, dark eyes with a cupids bow mouth, he was perfect, and always happy.

"Hey there, buddy," he said, picking the boy up and lifting him into his arms for a hug. The child returned it with all the enthusiasm of a four year old, giggling as Gabriel began to spin him.

"Hi Daddy," he said finally when the world grew still and he was able to wrap his arms around his father's neck. "I left my blanket at your house."

"Yeah, Mommy told me," Gabriel said, "How about we go up and eat some ramen? You can grab your blanket on the way out." Noah agreed whole heartedly, waving to Claire as Gabriel turned his back and walked them towards the apartment.

"Forty minutes, Gabriel," Claire called from beside the Benz.

He didn't respond, choosing to let his son chatter happily in his ear instead.

* * *

**A/N: Welcome to our newest tale, set years after Brave New World and inspired by the episode in which Gabriel had a son named Noah in the future. The theory is, some things are meant to be in any time-line. **

**Chuck and I decided to post this now, as a reward for being so patient eith us lately. We're eleven chapters ahead on this beauty right now, and I must say I am loving the premise. It's one of our first times trying out third person, so forgive us if it feels new. We would love to hear any thoughts or comments you might have. Always...**

**--Mel and Chuck**


	2. The Agency

**Chapter Two: The Agency**

_Seven years ago today, the entire world exploded in shock, fear, and amazement when Claire Bennet stepped off the top of a Ferris wheel in Central Park and declared that she had lost count of how many times she had survived such fatal incidents. Many denounced it as a well-pulled hoax, but those voices were silenced as more and more 'specials' came forward, Claire's performance having given them the courage to reveal their more unusual abilities._

_It was only a matter of time before the United States government, followed by others, decided that it would have to find ways to adjust to its specially-abled citizens, especially in light of the discovery of some of the more dangerous powers. There was a lot of talk about mandatory registration of abilities in order to protect the public, and before anyone could predict it, there was an outbreak of panic and militia justice. Several people were killed before things got under control, and many despaired that relations could ever be mended. The United States Supreme Court, the President, and other elected officials spent months in conference before a new department was opened: the Bureau of Specials' Justice and Public Affairs. That is quite a mouthful for most people, so it's become known shorthand as simply "The Agency"._

_It made sense that Ms. Bennet would step forward once again and become the face of the Agency. Officially known as the Specials' Liaison to the Government, she also acts as the foremost public affairs officer—after all, she is someone that normal people can look at without feeling intimidated or threatened. Her father often worked very closely with her, proving that, aside from some important genetic distinctions, specials and normals aren't all that different. It was a real blow to the Agency when he and his son were killed by a drunk driver just a couple of years after the Agency's foundation._

_Although some activists cried out that the creation of such a department was a return to the 'separate but equal' policy, many agreed that it was, in essence, for the best._

_"The purpose of this Bureau," Ms. Bennet said at one of the early press conferences, "is to protect the rights of those people with powers. In a world where most have long believed human evolution to be complete, we now have to adapt to the fact that some of us are different. Discrimination against the genetically evolved is inevitable, and it is our hope to minimize and one day completely eliminate it." She paused then, looking down at the podium before facing her millions of viewers once again. "The other half of our work will be to ensure justice for those who would use their abilities to evade the conventional legal system. It is of great importance that we protect America's police forces from criminals that are beyond their scope of practice."_

Claire sighed as she switched off the television, tired of listening to the same garbage that played every time a significant special was caught doing something shitty by the media, especially the segments on law enforcement. Gabriel had played a huge part in the justice department of the Agency, not that anyone outside had known it. There had been some controversy initially—several members of the staff felt that he should be punished by the system, not serving it—but the government had decided that they would rather use his talents than throw them away. It had proved be a good decision, for a while.

Of course, there had been a rather close call, one that could have discredited the Agency and ruined everything they worked toward.

"Rumors have been circling that a serial killer from several years ago is now working in your department, a man called Sylar. Do you have any comment on that?"

"We do not have anyone by that name employed in the Bureau. Our goal is to stop people like Sylar, not to give them a job," she'd said before ending the interview. Claire had neglected to mention that one would be hard-pressed to tell Sylar from a certain Gabriel Gray in the law enforcement sector. She hadn't thought the media really needed to know.

Claire opened the fridge and grabbed herself a bottle of water before sitting at the table. They were good at the job, and the pay was pretty damn good, all things considered. She had never really understood why he had quit in the first place. She took a long pull from the bottle, sputtering when she heard Noah call out, "Daddy?"

Turning on the light, she found her son sitting up in bed and clutching his blanket. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

The four-year-old's brow was comically furrowed, and he worried his upper lip with his baby teeth. "I want Daddy."

Claire sat on the bed, pulling Noah into her lap and cradling him. "Noah, Daddy's at his house. You know that."

He looked up at her with wide eyes, and she briefly wondered if all children had mastered this pitiful look or if her son was just something special. "Can we call him on the phone?" She glanced at the wall clock that Gabriel had bought Noah: a colorful piece that announced the daytime hours with choo-choo noises and went silent at night. The little boy loved it.

"No, honey," she lied smoothly. "Daddy's probably sleeping right now, and he can't drive over here while he's sleeping, can he?" Somehow she didn't think Gabriel really went to bed at 8:30, but what Noah didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and there was no way she was calling her ex-husband over here tonight. He'd be quietly, unbearably smug and argue that Noah clearly needed more time with his father, and they'd already had that argument today. Once was quite enough, as far as Claire was concerned.

"Now," she said, moving the boy back into bed and tucking him in, "you've got your blanket, and a cup of water on the night-table. It's time for you to go to sleep. Tomorrow we can go to the park and maybe have an ice cream cone, okay?"

Noah nodded and yawned, already falling asleep again. "Night, Mommy."

"Good night," she whispered before turning the light off and returning to the living room. Her water bottle had been knocked over when she went to check on Noah, and she grabbed a dish towel with a sigh, wiping the spilled water from the cherry-wood table.

Noah was always so happy to spend time with his father, counting the days on the calendar with help from his mother until the next visit. It was true, Gabriel had never put him in any danger, but there had been a few times that his bursts of temper had scared the child into tears. It had been enough to file for divorce, and enough that a judge had deemed him unstable and a possible hazard to the child.

Claire pulled a case file out of her bag, flipping it open and glancing through. It was a possible lawsuit, sent to the Agency for review before heading to court: a man with the ability to fly had been clipped by an airplane wing at 30,000 feet and had fallen to the ground unconscious. It was quite the cleanup down below, and had garnered more than the usual amount of press. She sighed and reflected that this really wasn't her job, but she was pretty much a jack of all trades at the Agency, the go-to girl for any and all problems, it seemed. She started reading through it, "…negligence on the part of the pilots…responsibility to avoid objects in flight path, and a double responsibility to protect persons from the dangers of the moving craft…"

She tossed it back to the table, frustrated. There was no reason her department should even be holding this case at all. Now that being special was no longer a secret, it seemed like more and more people were looking for special treatment to go along with their abilities. She picked up the phone, called the justice sector at the Agency and spoke to a secretary working late.

"Can you dictate for me? ...Thank you. Tell Welsh to call the Delphikis' lawyer and tell him there isn't a case, and that taking it to court is a waste of time. If he has questions he can call me. Thanks."

Claire hung up and sighed again, her thoughts returning to Gabriel. His anger issues all seemed to spring from job stress. Sometimes she felt like she could sympathize: the bureaucracy and the endless procedures were often frustrating. She remembered his face as he repaired the watch and smiled slightly. He was happier with his current job.

She sprawled onto the couch to watch some cartoons and switch off for a while. It had only been a few minutes before the phone rang, startling her.

"Hi, Toby."

"Hey. You doing all right?"

"Yeah. It's just been a long day. Stressful."

"Well, did you want me to come over?"

She raised an eyebrow, not that he could see it. "I just put Noah to bed. I don't think that's a great idea."

"Oh. Okay. Call if you want to talk, or anything."

She hung up the phone and stood, switching off the TV. "Forget it," she muttered to herself. "I'll just take a hot bath and go to bed early."

* * *

**A/N: Given the awful news, we've decided to post again more quickly than usual. I think we all need a fix after hearing that Heroes has been cancelled. Leave comments in the review section. Feel free to complain about the executives who made the decision to cancel. **

**--Mel and Chuck**


	3. The Institute

**Chapter 3: The Institute**

The paint was fresh, that was the first thing Claire realized when she walked into her office. Someone had taken a roller and a few buckets of a lovely eggshell coloring to her walls and gone to town. It wasn't that they had done it that irritated her, no, she had been expecting the renovation for a while— it was that they had decided to do it in the middle of the work week while she had several important member of the press waiting to be greeted in the antechamber. Yes, maintenance was especially idiotic this week, she thought as the fumes started turning her stomach and making her head ache.

"Kerry," Claire said, sticking her head out of the office door and facing her assistant, "Could you please have conference room three prepared for me?"

The woman nodded, her dark brown hair swinging around her face. She was an able assistant, but she never had learned to keep her hair out of her face. "Yes, Ms. Bennet," she answered, reaching for the phone at once.

"Also, call Charles in maintenance and tell him that the next time he wants to slap a fresh coat of paint in my office he had better do it on the weekend," she looked back into the office once more, frowning, "And he'd better put more plastic down, because as it is the carpet needs to be cleaned." The assistant nodded once more, jotting a reminder down on her notepad and dialing for facilities.

Claire took a deep breath and went into the office again. It was a nice set-up. Nothing like the working environment she'd imagined as a girl, but then government offices didn't tend to look anything like dance studios. Still, there was a spacious window overlooking D. C. along one wall, and there were plenty of shelves and filing cabinets. Her desk was large with a lot of room for paperwork and meetings alike. Hell, there was even a small kitchenette and a couple of lounge chairs on the far side of the place, with several potted plants and some novels. But then again, she was among the most highly paid officials working for the Agency; in fact, she was one of the most highly paid officials working for the government.

Kicking off her heels for a moment and padding across the carpet to her desk, Claire sighed. There was so much to do today, and not a lot of time. Noah was in pre-K from eight to noon, but he always called as soon as the nanny picked him up and took him to soccer, and if she wasn't home by the time the little hand hit the five, he became hysterical. It was a small blessing that she could take work home with her.

God, it felt good to be out of those shoes. Sinking into her desk chair, she folded her legs beneath her. It was hard to do in a pencil skirt, but one of the advantages of looking perpetually 20 was that she got to be very flexible.

Her e-mail inbox was quite full, between messages from the Secretary of State and Homeland Security reminding her that her quarterly reports were nearly due to freelance reporters asking for interviews, but such was the nature of the job. She worked her ass off to coordinate efforts at integration, oversaw lawyers and publicists alike, and was the goddamned face of the whole department. This was why the name of the game was delegation. She shot off a few e-mails of her own, reminding the people beneath her to have the reports on her desk by Wednesday morning and referring the press to the public affairs liaison who would be happy to schedule a time for them to meet… if she was ever free.

She was only halfway through when her phone rang.

"Claire Bennet speaking."

"Ms. Bennet? Conference room three is ready, and Mr. Holiday is asking after you."

Claire grit her teeth. "Unless it's to hand in his letter of resignation I'm not interested. Remind him that if it's not on an HR desk by closing, he'll be terminated."

"Yes ma'am. Should I have Ms. Green and Mr. Perez wait in the conference room?"

"Do that," Claire said, hanging up the phone.

Well, there really was nothing else for it, checking herself in the mirror and making sure her hair was perfectly coiffed and her strand of pearls was on display, she stepped back into her (torturous) shoes and went to meet the press.

Later that night over salmon and green beans, she and Noah watched her interview.

"Mommy, you're on TV again," the little boy observed, poking at the pink fish on his plate and wrinkling his nose.

"Yes, I am. Eat your salmon."

From the television, she heard her own voice. It was always an odd experience.

"While the lengths to which Mr. Starbuck went to evade the authorities were regrettable, the fact remains that he was apprehended," she said on the screen.

The female reporter raised an eyebrow and continued forcefully, "But don't you feel that the fact that he was able to fell six armed policemen with a wave of his hand makes him and people like him a threat to society as a whole?"

I do not," she had responded, gaze steely, "Mr. Starbuck's abilities are neither indicative of evolved sentiment nor a particularly useful example of the everyday citizen's abilities. I think what the press likes to forget is that many, in fact most of us, cannot do what people like Mr. Starbuck can, and of those who can, very few have exhibited violent tendencies. Just as in the regular populace, the decision to act contrary to the law is a personal one made by individual humans… no matter their abilities."

"What about people who make the decision not to aid in government conducted research? Are such specials selfishly depriving the world of what they have to offer? And do you think the government has an obligation to force their compliance?"

Claire paused, "It is the government's position, and my position, that evolved humans have much to share with the rest of the world. While it continues to remain the decision of the individuals to volunteer for testing and research opportunities, as well as community service, we like to highly encourage such involvement. So many great things have been accomplished since the advent of the Research and Service Institute. The water-way reclamation projects throughout the country as well as several other environmental, medical, and technological advances are great examples of what we can accomplish together. And, though it doesn't really matter, I've been told the institute pays handsomely for time and services rendered."

"Mommy, I don't like these green things," Noah said, distracting her. Claire raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you told me last time they were your favorites."

The four-year-old shook his head, "I changed my mind."

Claire sighed. "Eat half of them and I'll let you watch some cartoons before bed." Noah's eyes lit up. "But only if you finish all of your salmon." He didn't seem to mind the stricture; in no time at all he had finished eating and was settled in front of SpongeBob and his underwater friends. It was an old cartoon, but he loved it.

Claire took the opportunity to check her e-mail again. There was one message from Toby asking about dinner Friday (which she couldn't make because it wasn't Gabriel's weekend), one from Gabriel asking if she and Noah wanted to join him for lunch on Saturday (she didn't), and one from the Research and Service Institute of Specials. Claire opened the e-mail with something akin to annoyance.

_ Ms. Bennet,_

_ We at the Research and Service Institute of Specials would like to once again extend our invitation for you and your son, Noah James Gray, to partake in research aimed at improving the environment and society as a whole. We have made several attempts to contact you thus far, and as we have not received any response, will attempt to make contact in person at the first opportunity. _

_We are confident that you would be pleased with your contribution, as well as your sons, and invite you to tour the facilities at your convenience. We would also like to remind you that the stipend received is sizeable, at 1,200 dollars for each hour of service rendered and 500 dollars for each hour of testing time. _

_Please respond at your earliest convenience. _

_ Sandra Louise Gabby_

_(555) 279-5555_

_.gov_

_Recruitment Specialist Officer, First Class. _

_The Research and Service Institute of Specials_

Claire stared at the e-mail for a while. Sandra Gabby was sending her e-mails. The woman was in charge of all the recruiting done at the Institute, and she was sending Claire Bennet e-mails. They were desperate then. But for what?

The Institute had first contacted her very soon after Noah's birth, extending the invitation to her, Gabriel, and their newborn son. She and her husband had discussed it, and had found no reason why their infant should take part in any such research; he hadn't—and probably wouldn't for some time—begun to manifest any abilities. It had always sounded fishy. After their initial refusal to have Noah participate, the Institute had held off, but once the divorce had been finalized a year before, they had been contacting her incessantly. It was getting more than odd, and it was probably time to let Gabriel know in case they started e-mailing him again as well.

Claire composed an e-mail expressing her antipathy for further contact and telling the 'Recruitment Specialist Officer, First Class' that she would not change her mind in the future. She sent it off with a flourish and all of her Agency titles into the ether, and then she forwarded the e-mail to Gabriel.

"Mommy," The cartoon ended just as she finished. "Why do you look mad?"

Claire schooled her features. "I'm just tired, sweetie. But it's almost bedtime. We should probably get you bathed."

At the mention of a bath, the child darted out of the room, bolting into his bedroom and hiding under the covers.

So it's going to be that kind of night, thought Claire as she followed him. Fun.


	4. The Stranger

**Chapter 4: The Stranger**

Gabriel finished cleaning up after breakfast and decided on a whim that he didn't feel like going in to work today. That was the great thing about being his own boss; he could take as many personal days as he liked. It was also a bonus to working as a watchmaker—a broken timepiece was never an emergency that couldn't be put off until tomorrow.

He logged on to his e-mail; it wasn't as though his inbox was overflowing with messages, but it was one of those habits he had not been able to lose since his days at the Agency. Not that anything truly important came via the Net. All his assignments were given to him in person, especially the ones that the public would not have approved of.

Spam, advertisements, fantastic one-time offers…garbage. A forwarded e-mail from Claire. He read her note at the top, _Thought I would warn you. –C_, and then began scanning the forwarded message. He put it into the trash folder after the first few sentences. Nonsense.

Gabriel had to wonder what the Institute would really be able to do with someone like him. They wanted him because he had a range of abilities, but it wasn't as though he would expect them to learn anything if he were to show up for testing. Intuitive aptitude was special, in a world where scientists believed they were unraveling the meaning of the word. His other abilities weren't floating around in his DNA—he had learned them. You couldn't find learned skills in the genetic makeup, and there was no way he was going to let anyone try to analyze his original ability. He had thought the folks at the Institute would have taken the hint by now that he wanted nothing to do with them.

What was more concerning was their unsettling interest in Noah. With parents like his, the child was almost certain to have an impressive ability, but he was _four_, for God's sake. There was plenty of time to worry about that kind of thing later. Gabriel didn't think he was too idealistic for wanting his son to have a happy childhood with as little stress as possible. Working with the Institute would pretty much crush any chance Noah had as a normal little kid.

Gabriel pulled on a jacket and locked the door to his apartment before checking his mail. Wouldn't you know it, he thought, they sent me a letter, too. He left the bills and threw the letter in the trash on his way out. No point in letting the overzealous Institute ruin his day.

He decided to walk to his favorite bookstore—the exercise was nice, and it wasn't far enough to need flight or the car. It was an old store, with an unusual selection of books, an eccentric owner, and no immediately noticeable organizational system. It did well enough for itself, but no one would call it a competitor for Borders or Barnes and Noble. Gabriel loved it.

"Hi Myrna," he called to the overweight, 63-year-old woman at the register. She grunted back in salutation as he started perusing the shelves, picking books up at random, finding four or five before returning to the counter.

"What do you think?" he asked as he laid out his choices before her. Myrna pursed her lips, feigning concentration, though they had been through this ritual enough times to know that she had already made her decisions.

"Hmph," she muttered as she touched the cover of Goethe's _Faust_, but she made it the beginning of a pile closer to the cash register.

"This is no good," she said, tapping another. "He reached his peak with _Pillars_. Sequel is no good." That one was set aside in a second pile.

Next she rejected a book of plays without a word of explanation, setting it atop _World Without End_ with a careless expression.

She gave Asimov's _Foundation_ trilogy a grudging look before adding it to the 'keep' pile. Gabriel knew better than to think that she was displeased with all of his choices; he had never once seen Myrna smile or express love for a book, even ones that he knew were her favorites.

"What is this?" she asked with real exasperation, holding up a paperback that read _Relentless_. He shrugged.

"It's your store. I found it on the shelf."

She harrumphed again and tossed it aside. "Garbage. Don't read trash, stupid man."

And that was it. Out of five books, she had chosen two that he would be allowed to buy. He frowned in consternation, though, when the receipt was higher than he'd expected.

"Myrna, what is this? Are you getting stingy on me?" he joked.

She scowled at him before pulling another book from a shelf behind her. "For your boy," she said, handing it to him.

"Oh. Thank you," he replied, looking it over and reading the title. _Chickens in the Headlights_. It looked perhaps a little advanced for a four-year-old, but it would be good to read together at bedtime the next time Noah stayed over.

Gabriel waved goodbye to Myrna as he left, stepping onto the street and inhaling deeply. It was very nice out: sunny and warm with just a light breeze. He hadn't thought he would like living anywhere other than New York, but Washington had turned out to be a pretty good alternative. Good thing, since Claire was so dedicated to her job, and had primary custody.

The damn job was really the reason everything had fallen apart. Claire had claimed in court that it was because of his unstable temper, but the truth of it was that they fought about work all the time. He could not understand her blind devotion to it, when she had to know that her ideals of justice and equality weren't being fulfilled at the Agency. Of course, he reflected, she wasn't above ignoring those ideals herself when she wanted to. Despite what she told him, he didn't really believe that seven years of mental imprisonment could atone for everything he had done before that. It was part of why he'd joined the Agency in the first place, in the hopes of removing a few more bloodstains from his record.

And damned if that hadn't backfired, he thought darkly. He flew into the city, finding an outdoor café where he could sit and read one of his books. He ordered a coffee and opened Faust to the first page. Time passed so pleasantly for him that he was barely aware of it, and he thought in passing that he was glad he'd taken the day off.

"Excuse me," a voice said above his head. "Is anyone sitting here?"

He looked up to see a willowy woman standing on the other side of the small table. She was pretty, with brown eyes and auburn hair that fell below her shoulders. She spoke again and his attention was drawn to her face.

"The other tables are full," she said with a slightly shy smile. "I was wondering if I could share yours."

"Of course," he answered, gesturing to the empty chair.

"Thanks." She sank gracefully into the offered chair and set down her drink. "I'm Selina Connors."

"Gabriel Gray."

Before Gabriel knew it, she was engaging him in a conversation. It was uncharacteristic for him, but she was certainly attractive and, as it turned out, pretty smart. They talked about Faust for a long time before she asked about him. He mentioned Noah, and she asked if he had any pictures.

"Oh, he's adorable," she crooned over the photo in his wallet. "Is this his mother?" She pointed a manicured finger at Claire.

"Yes, it is."

Selina's face scrunched up for a minute. "Wait a sec. Isn't that the woman who works with the specials' agency?"

He took a moment to be grateful that his face was not known the way Claire's was. "Yeah. Claire Bennet?"

"That's the one," Selina agreed. "She's very pretty."

He pocketed the wallet and smiled noncommittally. There was nothing he could say after a statement like that. Claire was his ex-wife; it didn't matter that he still thought she was lovely, and it wasn't the kind of sentiment that one expressed to strangers.

"Look, Gabriel…I hope you don't think I'm unbearably forward," Selina said as she leaned very slightly forward, "but I was wondering if you'd like to get dinner sometime. I haven't had this enjoyable a conversation in a long time, and I'd love to pick your brain some more."

He took a moment to chuckle internally at her ironic choice of words, considering his own past, before answering her. "I'd like that very much."

They exchanged numbers before she left, and he was left with his own surprise. Divorced status notwithstanding, this was not the sort of thing he did. He focused on his shop, counted the days until he had Noah again, and left the flirtatious nonsense to Claire and her boyfriends.

It would be a welcome change, he thought as he picked up his books and left the café.

* * *

A/N: Hi guys! Just one update today, and it will probably work that way for at least a while. Mel is on a study abroad until the end of June, so our writing will be kind of slow while we wait for her to get back. This also means that Chuck is updating, so if there are any mistakes or false alarms about new stories, that's why. Please be patient with me and we'll get through Mel's absence together. Love to you all.


	5. The Reveal

**Chapter 5: The Reveal**

This first thing Gabriel noticed when she took her shirt off was that her breasts were larger than Claire's. His ex-wife was petite, but her breasts were not undersized. Towards the beginning of our relationship they had been a nice B-cup. Rounded, soft, fleshy, and fun. After Noah had been born they'd grown slightly, but she still hadn't looked like a porn star—which he'd liked. Still, there was something to the devastating C-cups in front of him. Encased in red lace and looking mouthwatering, Gabriel wondered for a moment whether they were real or not. Then he decided he didn't care.

"Do you like it?" Selina asked, smiling slyly and running a finger across the top of her bra. He swallowed.

"Yeah," he said, leaning back against his leather armchair and crossing his legs uncomfortably.

"I knew it would be a good buy," she said, striding forward and moving to straddle him in the chair. Her knees came to rest on either side of his hips and her skirt bunched around her waist as those pale arms wound around his neck. "The panties match," she whispered in his ear. He suppressed a shudder.

In his mind, Gabriel tried to trace the chain of events that had brought them there. Dinner had been pleasant, enjoyable even. They'd talked a lot about literature. She had been an English major during her undergrad and then done a lot of personal research on the topic during law school. She was definitely intelligent, and Gabriel liked that in a woman. It was something he had always admired about Claire: despite not being able to finish her undergrad at Arlington as scheduled (damned media hounds) she'd studied online and independently until she'd earned a bachelor's in Violence, Conflict and Human Rights.

After dinner they'd gone to a club, done some dancing. Selina danced like she'd been doing it forever, and the way she'd ground against him in the crush of bodies… ending up half-clothed on his living room furniture hadn't taken a giant leap of logic or a huge change in his state of mind, especially with several shots of something strong in him from the club.

It had been a while since the last time.

Above him, Selina smiled. Running her fingers through his hair, she shifted across his lap until the core of her was pressed to his penis and he could feel her heat through his slacks. He groaned against her throat as she chuckled in his ear.

They enjoyed themselves completely on the leather chair. And on the carpet. And the panties did match the bra after all.

By the time they finally slowed down and took a few deep breaths, it was three a.m. and a storm had rolled in outside. Gabriel lay on the floor beneath the window, a pillow off the couch beneath his head and Selina's hair spread out across his chest. Her breath tickled his left nipple.

"Thanks for dinner," she said finally, nails running absently up and down one of his thighs.

"My pleasure," he said back.

They fell asleep on the floor.

Five a.m., her phone rang across the room, waking the both of them. She fumbled up, breasts bouncing as she moved and hair brushing down past her pale shoulders.

"Hello?" she breathed into the cell. It struck him then how oblivious she was to her own nudity. Apparently she was used to it.

"Yes, I am. Uh-huh," she said, trying to keep her voice low. "Yeah. Right now? I don't think now is the best time to—of course I do. Yes. I do understand. No, I wouldn't." Her back seemed to tense as she listened. "Yes sir. I will. Right away," and then she closed the phone, sighing and dropping it into her purse before putting her hands on her hips and glancing around the room. She caught sight of her underthings quickly and snatched them up, tossing Gabriel his boxers in the process.

"That didn't sound good," he said softly, catching the boxers and drawing them up over his legs to cover everything pertinent.

She didn't say anything for a while, turning her back to him as she drew on her panties and clasped her bra. For a minute or so she just stood there, arms crossed in front of her and pale skin glowing in the moonlight that filtered through his window.

"We need to talk," she said finally, turning to face him as she sank down into a chair, the same chair we'd been in earlier.

Gabriel sat up, not liking the tone of her voice. This couldn't be good.

"Doesn't that come later in the relationship?" he teased, trying to make light of the situation. Something felt wrong here.

She grinned wryly.

"I like you," she said instead of answering his question, "I really do. I want you to know that."

"Are you married?" Gabriel asked warily. This was the reason he didn't do one-night stands. This was the reason he hadn't pursued anything since Claire. He kicked himself mentally for being weak and succumbing.

She laughed. "Married? God, no. I'm not into the whole 'til death do we part' thing." Gabriel raised an eyebrow as he stood up and then took a seat on the coffee table next to her. "Not that I mind people who do," she said, blushing, "it's just not my thing."

"What is it then?" he asked. His stomach tightened, like he was about to be punched in the gut.

She just sat there quietly for a while longer, the red scraps of lace she wore standing out brilliantly against her skin.

"Well," she said finally, "It's about work."

Gabriel frowned. "Work?"

"My work, actually. And yours."

The pit of his stomach went cold.

"I'm a watchmaker," he said, face expressionless as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

She had the nerve to laugh. "Right now you are," she murmured, "but before you were an agent."

He stood up abruptly, pushing the coffee table back and grabbing his slacks and undershirt from the couch. He needed to be clothed. "Are you with the Agency?" he asked, furiously yanking on his pants and doing the button up.

"No," she said. He paused, turning to face her, shirt in hand.

"Then what the hell do you want with me?"

She looked troubled. "You have to understand that this," she motions around them, "wasn't a part of what I'm about to say."

Gabriel scowled. "Is this your way of trying to get me to respect you after you whored yourself out as some sort of added enticement to a job offer?"

Selina paled as if he'd just slapped her, but he was so angry he didn't even feel a little bit sorry.

She stood up, grabbing her skirt and pulling it up as she stared him down. "No," she said, furious. "But now that I know what you really think of me, what I'm about to say shouldn't be difficult at all."

"Spit it out," he hissed.

And then her anger was gone and she was smirking like a cat that had just captured the milk maid and locked her in a room where she would be forced to make cream for the rest of her life. "Fine," she said, voice saccharine sweet. "I work for the Institute."

Gabriel's blood ran cold.

"My initial assignment was to approach you with an offer to double the study reward most specials receive, as well as to extend an offer to set up a trust fund and—"

He scoffed. "I don't need your money," he said. This was just like the Institute. Send a beautiful woman to proposition the powerful special they hoped to recruit—

"You misunderstand me," Selina interrupted his angry thoughts, "The offer isn't for you." She paused, "It's for your son, Noah Gray."

Hearing his son's name on those manipulative lips… it took everything he had not to toss her against the wall and slice her head open. He wanted to see her blood run red down her face and onto her breasts—he almost missed what she said next.

"Of course, the Agency has contacted us as well and asked me to extend their wish for you to return as soon as possible, but the real gem here is Noah. We believe he has a great deal of potential and would like to help the both of you explore that."

Gabriel knew the Agency would turn up sooner or later, they always did. He yanked the undershirt over his head and picked up her silken top, tossing it in her direction with a scathing glare.

"Get out," he said, interrupting whatever she had been about to say. She looked affronted, but closed her mouth, pulling her top on and stepping into the heels she'd worn last night as she grabbed her purse. She moved silently, keeping her mouth shut like she knew just how much danger she was in after mentioning his son.

She made it to the door before she said another word. "Please reconsider," she said, and there was something almost troubled in her eyes. "I like you, even if you're a suspicious dick… and we at the Institute are quite determined that Noah becomes involved in our latest bout of research…" her voice dwindled as Gabriel scowled, and finally she grinned. "Well, at least consider the benefit of his having a multi-million dollar trust fund when it's time for him to go to college."

And then she was gone, the door shutting behind her quietly. He locked it telekinetically and stood there for a while, a million thoughts running through his head. He was chilled to the bone by her words. Determined, the Institute was determined. He knew that word, it was just another way of saying they would get what they wanted eventually.

Gabriel picked up the phone by the door and dialed Claire's number. If they were 'determined' enough to send women to sleep with and proposition him, then she needed to know. And apparently the Agency was involved. The Agency wanted him back. But there was nothing new there. What was new was the connection between both branches and his son. Gabriel's heart hadn't slowed since she'd mentioned Noah.

He glanced around the living room as the phone rang. He caught sight of the leather armchair, the one they'd begun in… he snapped his fingers and it turned to dust. Screw her, screw her and the Institute and the Agency and the fucking armchair.

* * *

A/N: Please review! We love hearing from you!


	6. Ultimatum

**Chapter 6: The Ultimatum**

Claire rolled her head from side to side and yawned before she could catch herself. She hadn't slept well the night before—Noah had woken up with a nightmare, and just after she had gotten him back to sleep and crawled into bed, her cell phone had rung. She was in such a mood that she sent it directly to voicemail without bothering to see who it was. Then she'd slept through her alarm clock, rushed to get Noah to pre-K, and gotten to work almost half an hour late.

It put her out of sorts for the whole morning. She ran in, almost tripped in her new heels, and as soon as she sat down people were coming in to lay all kinds of work on her desk. Of course she delegated as much as she could, but there was still a pile of things that needed her specific attention, so she ran to the vending machine, grabbed herself a bottle of chocolate milk, and sat down to tackle the rest of it. It took her the entire morning, but she did get most of it done.

It was almost one o'clock when Kerry stuck her head in the door. "Ms. Bennet? You haven't forgotten your meeting with the Secretary of Defense this afternoon, have you?"

Claire glanced at the clock and cursed inwardly. She had completely forgotten; his secretary had called her and set up the appointment last week. She'd briefly wondered what it was about before getting involved in some other thing that required her immediate attention. "What time am I supposed to be there?"

"Actually, he's coming here, ma'am. You agreed to meet him in your office." When Claire stared at Kerry blankly, the assistant went on. "He should be here in ten minutes."

"Thank you, Kerry," Claire said, overwhelmingly grateful that she'd been reminded before the Defense Secretary showed up. "And please pull your hair back."

The Secretary of Defense was four minutes early. He declined anything to drink and sat on the other side of Claire's desk with an air of seriousness. She swallowed and waited for him to speak. He didn't.

"Mr. Secretary, I'm afraid I don't know why you're here. It's a real honor, but your department and mine don't overlap much. I'm kind of at a loss."

Defense Secretary Wilson Thomas sat back in his chair and sighed. "Ms. Bennet, you and I need to have a talk about the security of this agency."

"Security? I don't understand, sir." And she didn't. All the employees had to have a photo identification pass card to get into the building, and these cards were updated twice a year. Their security was pretty tight, actually.

"This organization is doing well," Thomas patted his stomach contemplatively, as though it were much larger than it was, "very well. But it could be better.

"There has been a growing concern that the law enforcement sector of the Agency has gone downhill since its establishment. If law enforcement is lax, that looks bad." He stopped rubbing his stomach and leaned very slightly forward. "It looks bad to the public. Looks bad to the government. Looks bad to other countries, for God's sake. We're the foremost in this area, thanks to you. We need your help to stay on top of things."

Claire was confused. She wasn't a member of human resources, and short of giving a press conference to quiet any worries (she hadn't heard anything about this so far, though), there wasn't a lot as the Specials' Liaison to the Government that she could do about this supposed issue.

"Well, Mr. Secretary, if you like I can call HR and get them to be more proactive on this, and I can ask the public to get more involved in their own safety—"

"No," Thomas interrupted, "that is not what we need." He laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on his knees. "None of that is necessary."

Claire took a second to remind herself that this was an important man, and that this roundabout waste of time must surely have a purpose if she would only be patient. "If I could get you to be a little more specific, maybe I can be of more help to you."

"Of course, of course," he responded heartily. His jovial expression dimmed and faded away, and in his eyes Claire saw that Thomas was ready to spit it out and get down to business. "Your husband was an integral part of this agency, Ms. Bennet."

"Ex-husband," she said quietly. Her hands suddenly felt very cold. When Gabriel had first left, the Agency contacted both of them all the time, trying to get him to come back to work. But now, the Secretary of Defense meeting her privately…Claire had a nasty feeling that this meant something different, something not entirely innocuous.

"Yes, yes," Thomas waved a hand, as though brushing such an insignificant detail aside. "Mr. Gray was vital to the operation of law and order as it concerns the specials. If we're going to quell the whispers going around, we'll need him back."

"I'm sorry," Claire spoke up. "I just have a few questions regarding this whole matter. If you'll just be patient with me, I'm sure we can help each other and move this along as quickly as possible."

"Certainly. What can I clarify?"

Claire felt a mounting sense of unexplainable panic as she ticked off her points of confusion. "First of all, I don't understand why the justice sector of the Agency is so important that the United States Secretary of Defense needs to come talk to me. Secondly, although Gabriel is a startlingly and uniquely talented individual, I'm quite certain that you could find other people for this job. I don't think he should have left, but he hated his work and he's much happier now."

"Unfortunately, Ms. Bennet, government is a business, in a matter of speaking," Thomas replied smoothly. "Happiness isn't necessarily our primary objective." He pauses before continuing, "Especially with our prize attack dog."

Claire's face drained of blood as the Defense Secretary's words and the tone behind them reverberated in her ears. 'Attack dog' didn't really seem like the right term for Gabriel's old job. It gave her the chills to hear Thomas speak of her ex-husband so condescendingly.

"I'm his ex-wife," she said shakily, "and our divorce was not the cleanest. I…I'm not sure why you think that I'll be able to convince him."

Thomas pursed his lips. "I'd really hoped that you'd be more receptive than this, Ms. Bennet. Here's the deal." He leaned forward again, his eyes hard. "You will be the one to get him to come back, because you both hold the same things important. The United States government needs your ex-husband, and we're willing to go to great lengths to accomplish that goal."

Claire's mind seemed to go blank and time slowed down as she processed his next words, "How's your son doing? Noah, isn't it? It would be dreadful if this little disagreement were to affect him in any way."

"Are…" she stopped to clear her throat, "are you threatening my child?"

The Secretary stood abruptly and smiled widely. "Of course not, Ms. Bennet. I'm just impressing upon you the importance of the issue. Have a wonderful day." He shut the door behind him, leaving Claire reeling.

When her cell phone beeped, she jumped and scrambled to find it. She'd forgotten to check the voicemail from last night. Three missed calls? How had that happened? She pressed the button and listened, grabbing her things.

"Claire, it's Gabriel. I know it's late but this is important, you need to call me as soon as you get this. The Institute sent someone to me about Noah. I'm worried about him; you need to be aware of what's happening. The Institute's working with the Agency to get Noah and me under their control. Call me."

Claire shut the door of her office and headed for the elevators.

"Ms. Bennet," her assistant called.

"I'm taking the rest of the day off, Kerry," Claire threw over her shoulder. "It can wait until tomorrow."

"Your ex-husband called," Kerry said, and Claire stopped. "He said you need to call him right now, it's very urgent."

Claire turned and got to the car as fast as she could, dialing Gabriel's number as she drove.

"Claire?"

"Gabriel, thank God." Her breath caught and she exhaled on a sob. She could feel panic taking over and she struggled to keep herself under control. "The Secretary of Defense just asked me about you, and he said something about Noah. He threatened him unless you came back to work. He—he scared me."

Gabriel's voice was relatively calm, considering the situation, and Claire found her heart rate slowing just listening to him. "Is he still at soccer?"

Claire checked her watch quickly. "He should be."

"Okay, I'm heading that way now. We need to get this sorted out."

Claire hung up the phone and sped up. She never wondered whether she was overreacting, only worried that she and Gabriel weren't acting fast enough, and why anyone would want her little boy badly enough to threaten them.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it's been a while since our last update, but Mel will be home soon and then things can get back to normal.


	7. Theft

**Chapter Seven: The Theft**

Gabriel closed the shop quickly, glaring at the one customer and forcing her out as he telekinetically locked the door behind them and headed towards his Buick soundlessly. There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that told him he should have listened to his instincts the night before and gone to Claire's, should have dropped everything and run to Noah's side. But he hadn't, trusting instead that Claire could manage and telling himself not to over-react. It wasn't as if government agencies could just kidnap children from their beds at night. No, apparently they saved such activities for broad freaking day-light.

Cursing, Gabriel entered the freeway, speeding around the flashy cars and big-rigs as he approached the exit. Noah's soccer field was fifteen minutes from the shop and ten from Claire's work. With any luck she'd be there before him and he'd get to see them both safe and sound, get to curse himself for over-reacting and pull Noah into a tight hug.

A jaguar on his left laid on the horn as he tried to merge right into them. Swearing, he swerved back into his own lane. "Pay attention, Gabriel," he muttered under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tight in both hands and checking his blind-spot before attempting to merge again. He made it off the freeway without further incident and sped all the way to Noah's practice. By the time he got there his whole body was tense, shoulders aching and fists clenched. He parked on the street, could see the kids practicing on the other side of the lawn.

A beeping horn behind him had him checking his rear-view mirror. It was Claire, the expensive car she drove pulling to a screeching stop behind him as he stepped from his own heap of metal.

"Claire," he said, nodding as she stepped out of the car. She was dressed for work, her long blonde hair pulled back and a strand of pearls at her neck. Her pencil skirt ended just at her knees and he wondered how she managed to walk in those high-heels all day.

"Gabriel," she said, rushing towards him, "Where is he?"

"I just got here," he breathed, taking her by the arm and leading her towards the other side of the field. They walked together, eye's scanning the green as they went, looking for the light brown hair and slight frame.

"I don't see him," Claire said, voice panicked. Her stiletto's were sinking into the grass with every step. Gabriel's mouth went dry. Where was he?

And then he saw _her_, auburn hair held back with combs and one lithe, pale arm outstretched towards _his_ son as she crouched low to the ground.

Gabriel screamed.

"_Noah!_"

The boy looked up, startled as his quick eyes darted around until they fell on his father. And he smiled, a sweet and brilliant smile that lit up his whole face and made Gabriel's heart ache.

And then Selina's pale hand wrapped around Noah's upper arm, and the short man Gabriel hadn't noticed before took a step forward and put his own hands on the boy's shoulders.

Noah was still smiling when he flickered out of the field, flashing like a bad satellite signal before disappearing entirely with the man behind him.

Gabriel's heart stopped and his nails bit into Claire's suit-jacket, grasping hard enough to bruise. Had she seen them? Had she watched it happen? Or had she only heard him scream and then watched as the willowy woman in the tight jeans and navy blouse approached them?

He forced himself to let go of his ex-wife, stuffed his hands in his pocket to keep the electricity dancing across his palms out of sight, and stalked towards Selina. It wouldn't do to kill the bitch here, not when there were twenty some odd children running around on the other side of the field and just as many parents and nanny's sitting drowsily. He would have to take her somewhere else to get the information he needed and finish the deed.

It was so easy slipping back into the role, he thought, as Claire struggled to keep up with him, asking him who that was and where Noah was. Then again, one didn't really lose the instincts of a serial killer; they just buried them deep and tried to forget where they were hidden.

Selina stopped five feet from them and held out a hand in front of her, motioning for them to do the same. Gabriel didn't stop, didn't see a reason too. Selina smiled. With a twist of her hand he felt himself stopping, wrenching in his spot and stumbling slightly before snapping upright with his arms stiff at his sides. He tried to move, tried to shoot electricity from his finger-tips… but none would come. Where the power had been, there was now only a profound emptiness.

The blood drained from his face. This was not good.

Claire paused, eyes widening and staring back and forth from Selina and Gabriel.

"What the hell did you—" The redhead cut her off with a smile, and soon Claire stood stiff as a board as well, mouth clamped shut and eyes wide and panicked.

"That's much better," Selina murmured, taking a couple steps forward to stand right in front of Gabriel. She held one hand out tentatively, stroking his stubble roughened cheek and jumping a bit as electricity sparked from her hand to his face and he flinched. "Oh," she said, "that one's fun."

Gabriel glared at her. How had he let this happen? Why hadn't he followed his instincts last night and made sure Noah was safe? Why hadn't he turned this crazy bitch down at the coffee shop? Christ, it was all his fault. He'd gotten them into this. Him, Claire… and Noah.

"What are you?" Gabriel growled, glaring as Selina continued to spark from her fingertips. She looked up, slightly distracted, before focusing with a smile.

"I think that's been made fairly obvious," she said softly, almost kindly. "I'm like you, a Special. I…" she frowned slightly, looking for a word, "Borrow, abilities. When I get close enough to one of us, I can feel them… and I just… borrow what they do for a while."

"You steal abilities?"

Selina scowled. "No," she hissed, "I _borrow_ them. Borrowing means you give them back… not that I would expect someone with your _talents_ to understand that." She paused, sighing and taking a step back, moving to stand in front of Claire and looking her up and down.

"You're shorter than I thought you'd be," she said simply. Claire glared, green eyes wide and angry as Gabriel watched, and he was reminded of just how deep her fury could go. He would have pitied Selina if she hadn't just kidnapped his son.

"Anyway," the bitch continued, smiling falsely, "I'm here to have a bit of a chat with the two of you," she paused, but whether it was for effect or because she was thinking of how to phrase her next few words, they didn't know.

"As you've noticed, Gabriel," Selina said, "We've got Noah." Beside him, Claire whimpered. "I have to admit that getting the clearance to take him wasn't the easiest thing we've ever done. It called for a great deal of inter-departmental cooperation," she scowled at Claire, "not that you would know anything about that, Ms. Bennet. But the higher-ups at the agency, as well as the Secretary of Defense and his department, all agreed that this really was the best course of action… he called after your meeting didn't go well."

"Cut to the chase," Gabriel spat out.

Selina raised a brow. "Alright then," she said congenially. "Your son is safe. He's going to be staying in an undisclosed institute facility until such time as we determine. Until then, _you _are going to go back to work."

"Fuck you, if you think I won't tear apart every fucking institute building until I find him and gut you, you mother—" Selina cut him off with a smile, forcing his jaw shut like she had Claire's.

"It's rude to interrupt others when they're speaking," she murmured with a soft smile. "As I was saying. You're going to go back to work at the agency, so as to ensure… the _health_ of your son." A cold chill ran down Gabriel's spine, and Selina wasn't smiling anymore. In fact, she looked quite disgruntled. "The Agency has chosen to surround Noah with some of the most powerful hired guns it could find. All specials, all perfectly willing to kill the boy should an attack seem imminent."

Gabriel looked to his left. There were tears running down Claire's face.

"Still with me, Gabriel?" Selina asked, "Good. Now, I want to assure you that I'll be taking every possible measure to ensure Noah's safety. He is… valuable, to the Institute," her gaze hardened as it fell on Claire, "which you both know perfectly well." The woman sighed regretfully. "If only you'd agreed to our initial offers. The Institute would never have been forced to go this far. But as lamentable as you're lack of action has been in the past, you both have the opportunity to make up for it now."

From the inside of her jacket, Selina pulled a manila envelope, tossing it at Gabriel's feet. "In that packet, are a few instructions. The two of you have a scheduled meeting with the Secretary of Defense this evening at eight. I believe you've been invited to dinner at his home. Should anything… unfortunate happen to him—or anyone else you've not been told to eliminate—I've been advised to tell you that Noah will pay the price."

This couldn't be happening. Gabriel could barely see through his tear blurred eyes, couldn't hear anything but the woman's voice. They had his son, his precious child… and they were willing to kill him. And for what? For a job? Another hired gun to kill people in an official capacity? Why couldn't they have just left him the hell alone?

"I'm going now," Selina's voice echoed in his mind, "Your powers will be returned when I leave. Remember not to do anything rash… for Noah's sake," and then the woman was turning and walking away, her hips swaying and arms swinging softly at her sides.

Gabriel felt his abilities and his freedom of movement return with a rush. Beside him, Claire sank to the ground.

"Claire," he whispered, throat dry, going to his knees beside her and grabbing her by the shoulders so that she would face him. She was crying freely, looking stunned and hopeless.

"I didn't think they would do it… I didn't think they would do it," she said, and then she buried her face in her hands. "Oh, God."

The parents on the other side of the field were starting to stare, one of them making their way slowly towards the couple kneeling on the ground.

"We have to go," Gabriel said roughly, grabbing the envelope in one hand and pulling Claire up with the other. "You have the keys to the Benz?"

She shook her head. "They're still in the car."

Gabriel led the way to the side of the green, over to her car. He opened the passenger-side door, pushed her in and took his own place in the driver's seat.

He was numb. Numb, numb, numb. He couldn't feel, couldn't _tell_ what he was feeling. Sorrow, rage, fear… Add it all together and it came out to nothing.

He split open the envelope.

The invitation was heavy in his hand and "cordially invited" both he and Claire to dinner with Secretary of Defense Wilson Thomas and his wife at their home that night. Gabriel threw the vellum into the back of the car. It landed in Noah's booster seat.

Cursing, crying, Gabriel started the car and drove away from the soccer field.

* * *

**A/N: I'm back! Love, Mel. **


	8. The Secretary

**Chapter Eight: The Secretary**

"You left your car," Claire said after exactly two minutes and thirteen seconds of silence.

"I know I did," he replied hoarsely. "We can worry about it later." He drove the Mercedes back to her apartment and turned off the engine. "What are we going to do?"

Claire wiped the last of her tears off her cheeks and set her jaw. "Well, it looks like we're going to Thomas's house tonight and having dinner." She got out of the car and opened the back door, grabbing her bag and the invitation, and heading for the front door.

Gabriel stared after her for a moment before bounding to catch up to her. "Are you insane?" he asked incredulously, grabbing her arm and preventing her from entering the house. "You think that going to dinner with this asshole is going to solve anything? This is just like you," he went on in exasperation, "You think that by going through all the right channels and obeying the government's demands on you that you can get Noah back?"

He released her and stalked into the living room, sitting back on the couch with an explosive, frustrated sigh. Claire looked at him coolly, turning to close and lock the door before putting her things on the table and standing in front of him.

"No, Gabriel, I don't," she said calmly. "As a matter of fact, from what I've seen of Thomas so far, I think he's going to jerk us around for a while before laying out what he wants. I think he's going to expect compliance because he's got our son, and we're going to give it to him. And then I think," her voice hardened and Gabriel looked up to see her face more coldly furious than he had ever seen it, "that we are going to have to do a lot of shit we don't want to in order to get Noah home. But you should know pretty well that you can catch a lot more flies with honey, even if it's poisoned."

Gabriel was used to being pretty quick, mentally speaking, but his brain felt like it had been dipped in molasses. Loss was slowing down his neural processes, and he struggled to make sense of what Claire was saying. "Can you please be a little less vague?"

"I'm saying, Gabriel," Claire said as she shrugged out of her suit jacket, "that we're going to do what they expect, because it's to our advantage that they think we're beaten. Then when the time is right we're going to find Noah and get him away from the people who took him. And then we're going to slaughter the sorry fucks who thought we'd just let them kidnap my baby."

Gabriel blinked. The woman in front of him reminded him of a younger Claire, the one he'd fallen in love with in the first place. Her ability to bounce back from the awful things that seemed drawn to her never ceased to impress. A bitter and vindictive smile took its place on his features. "Not bad, Claire."

"Thank you," she said matter-of-factly. "Now, do you have a suit at home, or do we need to go shopping?"

"I have the one I wore to the divorce proceedings," he answered.

She frowned. "I guess that will work."

The next several hours passed by in a blur. Gabriel flew back to the soccer field to get his car, driving it back to the apartment and to get some of his things together before returning to Claire's place. In the meantime, Claire had been ignoring Toby's phone calls, only picking up when she saw his number for the fifth time.

"Hey Claire. I was wondering if you and Noah wanted to go out to dinner tonight."

"Actually…" she hesitated. "Now's not really a good time for that. Gabriel and I have been invited to dinner with the Defense Secretary."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"You and your ex-husband are doing dinner with Wilson Thomas? Why?"

Claire bit her lip, wondering how much she could tell her boyfriend without being "rash". She decided to err on the side of caution, echoing Thomas's own words from earlier. "He wants to discuss security at the Agency."

"So why is your ex going? He doesn't work with you guys." Toby's voice was demanding, almost to the point of childishness. She had never heard him get so defensive about the fact that she was divorced.

"The Secretary wants an outsider's point of view on things," she lied. "A special who isn't affiliated with the Agency."

He sounded put out by this. "So there's no way you could just bring me along?"

"Not a chance," she answered, trying to sound disappointed by the fact and failing. "It's a work thing."

"Well what are you doing with Noah? Maybe he and I could go see a movie or something."

"Oh, that's sweet, Toby. But he's already got someone to watch him tonight."

He got short with her after that. "Okay, whatever. Call me later."

She hung up the phone and sighed. No time to worry about his feelings. She still hadn't decided what to wear. By the time she heard Gabriel shut the front door behind him, she'd put on a strapless purple dress that complemented her coloring nicely.

"I'm back," he said unnecessarily, announcing his presence with a tap on the door. "We need to leave soon."

"Almost done," she called. She finished applying her makeup and opened the bathroom door. As soon as she did she could feel Gabriel's eyes on her. The knowledge that he still found her attractive usually didn't bother her, but for some reason she felt uncomfortable now.

"Let's go," she said breezily, brushing past him into the living room. "You can drive."

They drove in silence the whole way to their destination, the relative comfort of the early evening disappearing as they both remembered sharply the disappearance of their son. When they arrived at the Thomas house, they were ushered into the dining room.

"Claire," Thomas said warmly as he shook her hand, and then Gabriel's. "So glad you both could make it tonight. Unfortunately my wife won't be joining us—business affairs give her a terrible headache."

"Mr. Secretary," Gabriel interjected.

"Oh, call me Wilson. You're guests in my home, after all," Thomas insisted.

"Can we skip the bullsh—" Claire started before Gabriel laid a warning hand on her back.

They sat at the table as though it were a perfectly normal dinner party. Thomas talked to what might have been an empty room for almost half an hour before Claire cleared her throat.

"Wilson. I'm sure you can understand that we're a little tense. Would you mind telling us what we need to do in order to get Noah returned to us?"

He smiled sadly. "It's a bit more complicated than you're making it out to be. The Agency very much wants Gabriel to come back to work for them. The Institute, of course, doesn't give a damn about that. They're very interested in Noah himself, although they'd like to take a look at you, I'm sure, Gabriel."

"What do we have to do?" Gabriel repeated. His body language denoted calmness, as though they were merely discussing the weather or the filet on their plates, but under the table Claire could see his hands clenching and unclenching.

Thomas, however, appeared to be unaware of his opponents' rage, and laughed a little bit. "You cut right to the heart of things, man. I like that." He set down his fork and cleared his throat. "You're going to return as an employee of the Bureau of Specials' Justice and Public Affairs. A _loyal_ employee, mind. Your wife will be charged with making sure that your actions, on and off the job, are befitting a government employee and not what any of us might deem 'inappropriate'. This of course includes any attempts to disobey your job instructions or exact vengeance on the people we have working for us."

Neither Claire nor Gabriel bothered to correct the Defense Secretary's wrong choice of the word 'wife'. He wasn't done, anyway.

"If your work is satisfactory, you will be allowed to communicate and occasionally visit with young Noah. If you prove yourself to be truly loyal to the Agency, your son will be returned to you in good health."

"Where is he?" Claire burst out.

"He is safe. He's in a secure location surrounded by people who will protect and not harm him unless either of you acts contrary to what we've discussed here."

"You can't do this," she cried. "This isn't legal, keeping our child away from us."

Then Wilson Thomas grinned, a frightening expression in its mix of geniality and cruelty. "You aren't normal people. The American public needs to be protected. Noah could be a real threat to society—just look at his parentage. A brutal serial killer and a woman sick enough to have his baby. Even if this got out, it would be surprisingly easy to justify our actions." He paused to take a sip of his wine. "But it won't get that far, will it? Because you're going to do what I've said in order to keep them from killing your little boy."

Gabriel bit his tongue until blood filled his mouth. His hand found Claire's and squeezed hard. He swallowed before asking, "When do I start?"

Thomas smiled. "Tomorrow."

They stood and left the house, getting into the car. Claire wept quietly in the passenger seat as Gabriel maneuvered the streets.

"It'll be okay," he promised. "We'll get him back."

"You're going to stay here tonight," she said instead of answering him. "If I have to babysit you we're going to do it at my place. You can sleep on the couch."

He nodded before turning off the car and following her inside.

* * *

**A/N: We hope you're enjoying this as much as we are. Please feel free to review! We love hearing from you. **

**-Mel and Chuck**


	9. The Status Quo

**Chapter Nine: The Status Quo**

The sun was too damned bright, and he had a crick in his neck. Gabriel groaned himself into consciousness, rolling onto his side as one arm fell away from his body, banging against some sort of unyielding, sharp edge. He swore, eyes fluttering open as he winced. Why had he left his bed-room blinds open… And where the fuck had his bed gone? He sat up abruptly, eyes wide and alert as he took in his surroundings. They were familiar, definitely familiar. He was in his old living-room. Claire's living-room.

He looked down at the couch he'd been sleeping on. Blue floral patterns over egg-shell. It looked like china and felt like it when you tried to sleep on it. Gabriel smiled ruefully, "Hey old buddy," he said sarcastically, "You haven't gotten any more comfortable in the last two years."

So he was in Claire's living-room, sleeping on the couch (again) and banging his arm on the gaudy coffee table (again). The question was why.

When he remembered, he nearly retched.

Noah. The institute. And the fucking Agency.

He was going to end it, and every single person his son came into contact with until then. He was going to start with the red-headed whore.

Standing up, back aching, Gabriel crossed the living-room to the guest bathroom, cursing himself for letting Claire turn both of the spare bedrooms into an office and a gym, respectively when they'd moved in. He relieved himself quickly, washed his hands, and splashed water over his face.

He looked back at himself from the mirror. Tired, worn, and more beat than he'd ever felt before in his whole life. What was he going to do?

Claire's voice echoed in his head. _We're going to do what they expect, because it's to our advantage that they think we're beaten. Then when the time is right we're going to find Noah and get him away from the people who took him._ He looked forward to the blood-bath.

Shaking his head, Gabriel made his way back into the living-room and checked the clock over the mantel. It was ten to seven. Wasn't Claire usually awake by this time? He made his way upstairs smoothly to check, skipping the noisy step and padding barefoot to the door of the master bedroom.

She was sitting on the edge of her bed, wearing nothing but her slip and bra, brushing her hair and staring at the wall. Her face was tear-stained.

He decided it was best not to disturb her. She was up and getting ready for work… just like any other day.

He caught sight of Noah's open door at the end of the hall.

No, not like any other day. Any other day she would have been chasing their son around the house, feeding him breakfast, and getting him dressed… she wouldn't have been sitting tear-stained on her bed.

Gabriel forced himself back downstairs. He should probably get dressed. He had work today too, didn't her? Work as a killer and a kidnapper of citizens. Work as an agent who was nick-named, "the solution" by his peers. He sighed. So much for his damned quiet life as a watch-maker. So much for Gabriel Gray the ordinary citizen who had an ex-wife, a son, and two gold-fish named Tuna and Sushi. He'd have to remember to pick them up that night, if he was going to be living here again so that Claire could 'watch' him.

He cursed under his breath. This was just what he needed, to move back in with his ex while their son was in the hands of unknown ass-holes who were doing experiments and God knew what else on him. But Claire had made up her mind last night, after she'd grabbed him some bedding for the couch she'd told him to settle in because he'd be there until Noah came home. He hadn't argued. He hadn't felt up to it. Besides, he owned the apartment. It would always be there when he wanted to go back.

He pulled on the same pants he'd worn last night. No need to shower, he wasn't trying to impress anyone. Besides, there weren't any clean towels in the guest bathroom and all of his things were still in Annandale.

Just as he finished buttoning his pants, the door-bell rang. He answered it with a growl, greeting the young man in the door-way with a scowl and morning-breath.

Gabriel looked him up and down, holding the door ajar and raising one eyebrow. The guy looked familiar.

"Who are you?" he asked gruffly.

"I'm Toby," the blonde said, frowning and defensive.

Right, the boy-friend. Gabriel smiled.

"Claire's not dressed yet," he said, smirking, "Can I give her something for you?" And then, the fact that his girlfriend's ex-husband was standing shirtless in her doorway, talking about how she was undressed, seemed to sink in through the blonde's thick skull. His fists clenched and his jaw grew rigged.

"No," he gritted out, "I guess not," and with that he whirled around, face red and body tense as he made his way to the fancy Porsche parked in the driveway. Gabriel chuckled as he went, feeling a little satisfied and totally vindicated. The guy was obviously a prissy shit with money in his background. Claire didn't need that in her life, especially not now.

As he smirked, his eyes lowered.

There was a manila envelope at his feet. The sense of achievement he had felt died abruptly.

Behind him, Claire's voice came from the top of the stairs. "Who was at the door?" she asked.

Gabriel didn't answer, bending down and grabbing the envelope instead, then holding it out towards her as he closed the door behind him. It felt like a brand in his hand.

She came down the stairs so quickly he wondered whether she'd flown. She was in a pant-suit today, navy blue with pin-stripes, but her hair was loose and face make-up free. She'd only come out of the room because of the door-bell.

"I found this in front of the door," Gabriel said, throat dry. The envelope was thick and heavy.

Claire took it from him abruptly, ripping the thing open as she crossed to the couch. Gabriel followed her, feeling vaguely fuzzy. They had been here during the night, had left this on the door-step and gone. The people responsible for his son's disappearance had been within frying distance and he'd been sleeping. Not that he would have been able to do anything without risking Noah anyway, but the thought still irritated him. He should at least be allowed to threaten the ass-holes when they came near him.

He was distracted by the sound of something hard hitting the coffee-table. He looked down.

Fuck him.

"I'm not wearing that thing," he said, voice deep and menacing.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Of course you are. Just like you're going to keep the access card on you and do as your told."

"Claire, I'm not putting it on again," his voice was hard, "I'll play their stupid game, I'll work for them, but I'm not going to touch it again and act like—"

Claire slammed the papers she held in her hand onto the table impatiently. "Not going to act like _what_ exactly," she hissed, "Like they have your son and are threatening to kill him if you don't comply? News flash, Gabe," she spat, "but they do. So you had better man the fuck up and put on the fucking badge, because I will not have you endangering him out of some childish aversion to a scrap of metal." Her eyes were flashing and she was breathing hard by the time she was done, and Gabriel felt about as small as a two year old.

Grudgingly, he took the badge in the palm of his hand. It was heavy and cool against his skin.

Claire read as he glared at the things on the table: the badge, his access card, and a ticket to pick up his old gear from the armory.

Claire thumbed through the thick stack of papers on her lap for the next few minutes until finally, she leaned back, sighing and covering her eyes with one hand.

"Well, we are well and truly screwed," she said softly.

"What is it?" Gabriel asked, reaching for the papers.

"Your contract is in there. They want you to bring it in signed. It includes all the regular non-disclosure crap, but that's not new. First three pages are instructions about… our situation. Apparently Noah has gone to stay with his grandmother Gray for some quality time while we work on reconciling those irreconcilable differences."

"My mother is dead, you'd think they'd do some homework before they came up with cover stories to explain away missing children," Gabriel said.

Claire rolled her eyes, "you have to admit it's a somewhat clever excuse to have us in the same house. It's easier to keep an eye on us if we're together—and everyone knows we fought like something fierce. Of course we wouldn't want Noah to see if something went south."

Gabriel ignored her and flipped through the pages, reading quickly. "House is bugged," he said softly. Claire nodded. "And if we're good, our first video chat with Noah is… Hell, a week from now." She nodded again. "Christ," Gabriel continued, "They've got us wrapped so tight I'm surprised we're still breathing. What is this, some sort of demerit system? Behavior, job performance, personal and public discussions…"

"And more demerits means more time between us and Noah."

"Bastards," Gabriel seethed, slamming the package down. "I'll rip them limb from limb."

Claire frowned. "Gabe, the house is bugged remember?"

He clamped his jaw shut so tightly Claire winced. Frowning, she ran to the kitchen and back. When she returned she was holding a pad of paper and a pen. She wrote furiously.

"Let's make a to-do list," she said softly, and handed him the notebook. Her handwriting was messy across the top.

_This is going to be more difficult than I expected, but we'll get him back._

Gabriel took the pen.

_They'll have our phones on tap if the house is bugged. What the hell are we supposed to do? _

Claire read and frowned.

_We'll figure something out. Later. You should find a way to let Peter know about this ASAP. _

"We're going to be late," she said aloud.

She went back upstairs to finish dressing, and downstairs Gabriel threw on the same suit he'd worn to the Secretary's. He'd burned all of his agency suits after he'd quit. If they wanted him in something standard they could damn-well issue it to him.

They were in the car by 7:45, on their way to Agency building. Gabriel held the Manila envelope on his lap, minus the pages specifically concerning them. They'd been told to destroy them once they'd finished reading, and the tiny red light they had seen in the corner had told them someone would know if they didn't. Gabriel had disintegrated them with a snap of his fingers.

He watched out of the passenger seat window as the city passed him by. It was big, sprawling, and currently devoid of anything good. How could it be anything else when Noah was missing? When he was working for the Agency again? When Claire had cried herself to sleep the night before, trying to stifle her sobs so that her ex-husband couldn't hear a floor below?

They got there too quickly, and when Gabriel stepped from the car, he felt a cold weight settle on his chest. This was it then. He was back to the exact same thing he'd been trying to escape since the beginning. Since Claire. Since Noah. Since the god-damned carnival and Nathan freaking Petrelli.

The Agency had him back again, hook, line, and sinker. And as he stared up at the building, eyes tracing every single story until they reached the top and froze… as Claire's small hand wrapped around his and gave a light squeeze… he knew it was real. He would kill again, kill anyone he had to in order to bring Noah back to him. Innocent people, scum, the president of the United States. Everyone in the world was living on borrowed time, because Gabriel Gray was a very special kind of weapon.

And the safety had just come off.

* * *

**A/N: We hope you're enjoying this as much as we are. Please feel free to review! We love hearing from you. **

**-Mel and Chuck**


	10. The Agent

**Chapter Ten: The Agent**

"Bye, sweetie," Claire said sarcastically. "Have a great day at work." She waved a manicured hand in farewell as she turned and walked to the elevator, leaving Gabriel standing alone in the lobby. He looked around for a minute, trying to procrastinate having to go to work. He sighed heavily and walked to the elevator, pressing B to get to the basement.

"This sucks," he muttered as the doors began to slide closed.

"Hold up!" a voice called. A young blonde man ran toward the elevator and Gabriel held the door, internally grimacing at the idea of having to share the ride down. Just another little displeasure to add to his day. The man arrived to stand breathlessly next to Gabriel.

"Hi," the blonde panted. "I'm Ricky. You can call me Rick if you want."

"Gabriel," he responded without turning his head or offering his hand to shake. The powers that be may have required him to be here working for the Agency, but nowhere in any of their damn manila envelopes did it say that he had to be nice to his coworkers. His reticence didn't seem to bother Ricky, though. It was almost as though the man was used to carrying a conversation by himself.

"I'm the new guy in the law enforcement sector. I just started a week ago," he said. "But…if you're going to the basement, you must be working here too, right? So I guess you're the new guy now, Gabriel. That's awesome; you and I can figure this job out together. I'm really excited—I haven't gotten to do much yet, but I think this week I get to be part of a team and everything."

His monologue was so bubbly and enthusiastic that Gabriel turned his head to look at his new coworker. Ricky was of average height, his blonde hair only slightly longer than a crew cut. He had the barest fuzz on his chin and didn't look any older than twenty-five. His eyes were pale blue-gray that twinkled when he noticed that Gabriel was looking at him.

"So, Gabriel," he asked with a smile, "what do you do?"

Gabriel cleared his throat, remembering that although he didn't need to be polite, he did need to make this man believe that he was here of his own volition. "A little of everything, actually. I'm an empath."

The other man's eyes widened as the elevator doors opened. "That's amazing! I've never met one before!" He continued on without prompting, "I'm mostly a defensive kinda guy." He explained what he meant when his skin sort of rippled, and suddenly a titanium man was walking next to Gabriel.

"Come on," he said as they walked down the short hallway, leading to a single door with a plaque that read only 'Enforcement'. "I'll introduce you."

So Gabriel was ushered into the main office. It was where all the deskwork was done; hallways branched off into the armory, an enormous room used for target practice and the like, and a few other little rooms. It was well-organized and metallic; no efforts were made to beautify the place or hide its purpose.

"Hi boys," Ricky announced at large. "This is Gabriel. He's new."

One man in particular hurried to meet him. "Gabriel Gray, my God. What are you doing here?"

Gabriel stared at the man's face, trying to put a name to the identity. "Hank?"

Hank reached forward and began pumping Gabriel's hand in earnest. "Yeah, they put me in charge about a year and a half ago. Good to see you. You back to work now?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes—had nobody warned these guys?—Gabriel replied, "Yes. I decided it was probably for the best. My skills can be put to good use here."

Hank had been working for enforcement since the establishment of the Agency, and his smile dimmed at the reference to Gabriel's past use and his unique skills. He bolstered it quickly though, and began introducing him to everyone else.

Some things didn't change—the force was still made up of a few idealistic rookies, some men who treated it like just another job, one or two who looked like they were probably mercenaries at one time or another, and the rest who used to belong to a regular police service, the military, or something similar; it was an all-around boys' club. Most of them were specials, but there were one or two who were normal people that had been individually selected and trained to handle the worst-case scenarios. Not that it would matter anymore—now that Gabriel was back, everyone else on the force was practically unnecessary, at least for the bigger problems.

Hank ran a hand over his balding head as he showed Gabriel into his office and shut the door behind him. "Gabe, have a seat."

Gabriel's new boss sat on the other side of the desk and frowned. "I'm pleased as punch to have you back with us—lemme just say that right now. But I can't rightly understand why you're here. You didn't make it a secret how much you hated this job, and yet here you are, supposedly ready and willing to get back to it. You're a smart man; you understand why this is giving me pause." He leaned forward, staring hard at Gabriel, who looked mildly back. Hank was a likable fellow, but Gabriel wasn't new to this game.

"Don't even think about it, Hank," he said evenly. "You can't crack into my brain and you'll only hurt yourself if you try."

Far from being put out, Hank laughed. "Should have known better, huh? I don't know why the rest of us are still here—you can handle all this on your own."

"Ah, but then I wouldn't get to converse with you, Hank," Gabriel returned dryly. Hank laughed again and waved Gabriel out of the office, yelling for Terrance to help him get all his gear together. Again, not that Gabriel really needed gear, but the uniformity looked good.

Gear organized, coworkers met, and boss's questions avoided, Gabriel sat at his desk, a small headache building right between his eyes. He spent the next few hours reading over case files and upcoming missions that he had been assigned. As before, it looked like he would be working alone a lot of the time. He didn't need a team, and it left fewer witnesses to his nastier work.

His desk phone rang. "Law enforcement, Agent Gray speaking," he answered automatically.

"I take it things are going well, then," Claire said.

Gabriel answered calmly, though the idea of things 'going well' was laughable in the extreme. If they were watching the house, it would be foolish for them to think that their interdepartmental phone calls weren't also bugged. "Yes, it's been a good day so far. I'm getting settled in and refamiliarized."

"Awesome. I was just calling to check in with you. Making sure everything's okay."

He grit his teeth in irritation. "I'm an adult. I think I can manage my first day at work just fine on my own."

"You know what they said," she responded with an edge in her voice.

"Did you call your uncle yet?" he asked to change the subject. "His birthday's tomorrow and you know he'd love to hear from you." Of course Peter's birthday wasn't for months, but the comment was so innocuous that Gabriel doubted anyone would check on the fact.

"I'll do it soon," Claire replied easily. "See you after work."

Gabriel hung up the phone, feeling a renewed sense of impotence. He had promised never to come back to this place, and here he was sitting at a desk, reading files as though he had never quit in the first place. His son was missing and there was nothing he could do about it. Gabriel didn't handle powerlessness very well.

"Hey, man," Ricky said, coming to stand next to Gabriel's desk. "You didn't tell me you used to work here. You just let me keep on talking like I could help you out. I feel like a real goof." He held out his hand. "No hard feelings?"

Gabriel shook the younger man's hand. "Nope."

"Good!" Ricky exclaimed, pulling Gabriel to his feet. "Hank said we should all get the chance to see what you can do, so we know our assets out in the field. Come on."

Gabriel was led reluctantly to the practice room, where some of the men had already gathered. They stood in small groups, not ready to fully invite the newcomer in. Gabriel didn't have a problem with that.

"Got anything I can use as an object lesson?" he asked Ricky. The blonde nodded, unfastening his watch from his wrist and handing it over. Gabriel turned it in his hands, assessing it out of habit. It was a large, ugly thing that he probably bought at Wal-Mart for fifteen bucks.

"This is great. It's going to get pretty beat up, but I can get you a better one," he promised. Ricky shrugged it off, excitement growing on his features as he waited to see what this quiet and vaguely threatening man could do. Hank shushed the talkers, and everybody fell quiet as Gabriel stepped forward, his body angled so that they could see what he was doing, but weren't in the line of fire.

Gabriel started by letting his hand fall, leaving the watch suspended in the air in front of him. He made it move around them before bringing it back in front of him. Then he lifted a hand and fried it with a long burst of electricity, moving to fire after that. Judging by the men's noisy reactions behind him, he figured that was probably enough to get them off his back for now. All his other gifts…well, they didn't need to know about those just yet. He could trust Hank not to let anything else slip before he was ready for them to know more.

He turned, looking each man in the eye, letting them know that he was aware of their judgment and their new awe. His little demonstration was enough to keep them just a little bit afraid of him. Gabriel decided that a touch of fear would have to be sufficient to brighten his day.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for all of your reviews. They seriously brighten our days. **

**-Mel and Chuck**


	11. Subterfuge

**Chapter Eleven: The Subterfuge**

It had been a week since they had taken Noah, and things weren't getting any better. She and Gabriel were both running on fumes, and it was starting to show at work. She'd forgotten three different conference calls and an interview with some CNN newsperson since Monday, and every single forgetful moment had cost her time until a video-chat with her son. With her mistakes and Gabriel's attitude at work… there were four more days between them and Noah still. Four miserable days during which there was no time to talk seriously about getting him back. Of course, Gabriel had scheduled lunch with Peter at some café near the clock-shop, after which he was planning on using the other man to help board up the place… but what kind of privacy would they be able to get in public locations? Gabriel needed to make an unexpected detour to someplace the Agency wouldn't be expecting, someplace private where he could really fill Peter in. They needed him on their side, and quickly.

Unfortunately, Claire hadn't been able to relay any of this to Gabriel as they'd either been in the house, at work, or someplace public since this shit had begun.

But Claire had a plan now, and she knew how she was going to take a bit of privacy in her own home.

Dinner was quiet and in the dining room. They ate tilapia and asparagus with dual glasses of Pinot Noir. He had brought it home after an assignment that night and told Claire it had belonged to the late Mr. Arnold Corrigan. Claire hadn't asked. It was good wine, even if it had been pilfered from a dead man's cellar.

"Gabriel," Claire said, halfway through the meal. "Was Toby here the other morning?" she asked.

Gabriel raised a brow and took a sip of wine before nodding. "If by the other morning, you mean last week, then yes. Boy-toy was here."

Claire grimaced. "What did you say to him?"

"I can't really remember. He didn't stay long, just saw me and left. Then I found the envelope." The envelope. Reference to the envelope always put both of them in a dark mood, not that there had been very many light moods since it had all begun. The piece of manila seemed to embody everything wrong with their lives, Noah's disappearance, Gabriel's job, and the Agency's dictates.

"He e-mailed me this morning. I think he was breaking up with me," Claire continued.

Gabriel chuckled. "That must be a novel experience for you."

It was Claire's turn to raise an eyebrow. "He mentioned you, and alluded to the idea of our relationship not being wholly over."

"Well I did move my things back into the house, and we show up for work together every day. What's the poor schmuck supposed to think? We're roommates?"

There was silence at the table for a while.

"I liked him, Gabriel," Claire said finally. Her ex-husband laughed softly.

"You don't seem especially broken up about it, sweetheart," he breathed.

Claire shrugged and took another bite of tilapia.

"Did you know that most tilapia have a higher saturated fat content than a hamburger?" Gabriel said, stabbing a piece of asparagus and lifting it to his mouth. "It's hideously bad for you."

Claire made a face and set her fork on her plate. "Thanks for that," she said. Gabriel only grinned. They sat there in silence for a while longer before she spoke.

"Read anything interesting lately?" Claire asked, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and leaning back in her chair to watch the man across from her eat.

Gabriel paused, thought for a moment and took another sip of wine. "The last really good book I read was a Neil Gaiman."

"Love him," Claire admitted.

"Yes, I know. _American Gods_, I took it from your bookshelf the day I left—"

"Son of a bitch."

"I just got around to it a month ago though. I was pleasantly surprised."

"You know I looked for that book for weeks after you left?"

Gabriel smirked, "I had hoped that would happen."

"Bastard," she said, without any real feeling. There was silence for a few more beats, and then—"What was your favorite part?"

"You know I hate answering questions like that."

"And you know I hate it when my books go missing."

Gabriel sighed. "The 'I believe' monologue. Much more realistic than poor Dr. King's."

Claire was quiet, pensive. "'I believe that people are perfectible, that knowledge is infinite,'" she quoted softly.

"And that anyone who says sex is overrated just hasn't done it properly," responded Gabriel.

Claire looked up from her lap and caught his eye. There was something smoldering there that made her stomach flip, and suddenly her plan looked much better than it had an hour ago.

"I would never call sex overrated," she said slowly, baiting him.

Gabriel grinned. "That's because it's one of the few things we did well."

Claire laughed. "I was actually thinking of Toby," she teased, standing up and listening as her chair scraped backwards over the hardwood floor.

Gabriel growled in his seat. "He's barely twenty," he said stiffly.

"Calm yourself," Claire admonished, "It was a joke. Are you done eating?"

He nodded and rose as well, grabbing his half-empty plate from the table and following Claire into the kitchen where they washed dishes quietly side by side.

"Look," she said when they were done, "The couch is super-uncomfortable for sleeping," Gabriel raised a brow but Claire didn't notice, "And we can't afford to have you in any more of a shitty mood than is inevitable…" Her voice trailed off.

"Yes, Claire?" She looked up at him from beneath dusty lashes, her cheeks gone slightly pink. She hadn't expected this conversation to be quite so difficult to conduct. And if it was hard to say this, how much more difficult would what she had to say later be?

"You should probably move your things to the bedroom."

There was a heavy silence as they stood side by side. Claire patted a dish dry with a towel and Gabriel stared down at her, head tilted thoughtfully to the side as she worked. Finally he spoke.

"Are you asking me back to your bed, Claire?" And the question wasn't defensive or accusatory in the least. He wasn't baiting her, he was just curious.

"To sleep, yes," she clarified, finishing the last dish and putting it up in the cupboard where it belonged. It was one of the rose-colored plates they'd gotten as a wedding gift. Who had given the set to them? Emma?

"Okay," Gabriel said without saying anything further. Claire nodded and made her way up to the bedroom. It was just as it had always been. Sage-colored comforter spread out neatly across the king-sized bed. Mahogany vanity against the west wall and windows along the east. There was a wide archway on the other side of the room which led to their bathroom. Everything was spacious here. Neither of them had done well with cramped living quarters back then; they hadn't liked feeling trapped.

"Nothing's changed much," he said from behind her. Claire jumped. "Well, except for the photographs." He stared pointedly at her nightstand table where their wedding photo had sat before.

Claire shrugged. "They weren't exactly great conversation starters when I brought dates here," she said and then flinched.

Behind her, Gabriel stiffened and Claire turned quickly, eyes widening as she took a step towards him. "I'm sorry," she said, "That was thoughtless."

It was Gabriel's turn to shrug, though something in his eyes had gone cold. "It's not as if I expected you to live the life of a celibate, Claire. It would have been hypocritical."

Neither of them said a word, and then Claire forced a smile and took Gabriel's hand, leading him forward and towards the bathroom. He didn't resist, just let her lead him past the bed and over the carpet until his bare feet hit tile.

"I had an idea," she said as she released her hold on him.

"How surprising," he said dryly. She ignored him and continued.

"I thought maybe we could shower together," she said.

Gabriel's jaw dropped. That, he had not been expecting. Claire watched, satisfied as he tried to school his features.

"We could release some tension," she said, keeping her voice intentionally low, "talk a little. I'll even give you a shoulder rub if you're very good."

He looked like he was thinking about refusing, but a glance at the shower later and comprehension dawned across his striking features.

"I'm not sure I would be able to stop thinking about who else exactly has been in the shower for me to be any good, Claire," he murmured anyway. He never had been able to resist a parting shot.

Claire refused to respond, crossing her arms instead and tapping her foot on the tile.

Gabriel chuckled. "All right," he said finally, "But only because I'm _very_ tense."

Claire refused to dignify his innuendo with a response, even though she had been the one to start it. Hers had been for the benefit of any audio or visual devices in the room, while his… his had been for the joy of it. Bastard.

They undressed quickly, both understanding that it was necessary. Not all cameras had blinking red lights to give them away, and neither of them was ignorant enough to believe that not every room in the house was being watched.

Claire refused to look at him as her clothes and his whispered to the ground, even when she felt his eyes on hers and her nipples grew hard and he chuckled deep in his throat. She started the water in the shower, let it warm for a moment, and then stepped into the spray. She was not ashamed and she was not shy. Gabriel had seen it all before, and touched every single bit of her skin. She'd carried his child in her body for Christ's sake; they really couldn't get any more intimate than that.

Behind her, Gabriel appreciated the view and hoped he wouldn't disgrace himself. He tended to lose his self-control when he and a naked Claire were in the same room, even if she was being a sneaky, manipulative bitch. He'd learned that during the divorce proceedings when she'd worn a low-cut shirt and he hadn't been able to get up and leave the room like he so sorely wanted to because she would have seen his raging hard-on.

He climbed into the shower behind her and she felt the door of the shower close behind them and the steam start to build as he stayed just out of reach.

"You wanted to talk," he said, voice low as he reached over her shoulder and grabbed the soap from in front of her. She felt his arm brush her naked shoulder and shivered.

"I knew you weren't as dumb as you looked," Claire said, taking a deep breath and turning to face him as she stepped behind the spray and left room for him to step beneath it. She couldn't keep her gaze from wandering. Broad shoulders and taut everything with dark hair running from his chest down to a thin trail that led to his groin… he was still insanely attractive without his clothes on… and still just as sizable as he had been before. Claire blushed despite herself and forced her gaze to stay above the shoulders.

He was smiling. Son of a—

"They won't hear us in here, and if they're watching the bathroom I didn't want them to know we—"

"You don't have to justify yourself to me, Claire," was all he said before grabbing her by the arm and pulling her close. She stumbled a bit before she felt his body against hers, her breasts pressed to his chest and his lips on her forehead. "But if we stay on separate sides of the stall I'm sure they'll figure out we're not actually 'relieving tension'."

Claire couldn't be sure, but she thought that was a low moan that came from her throat.

"Take Peter somewhere unexpected tomorrow, somewhere private with no surveillance. You been to see Myrna lately?"

"I'm due for another visit," Gabriel said, his lips fluttering over her cheek as she shivered despite the hot water jetting against her spine.

"Good," she said softly, breath hitching as one of his hands cupped her ass. "Gabriel!"

"Keep talking, Claire," he said.

She bit her lip. "Take him to Myrna's and tell him what's going on. Ask him if Parkman's still on the force."

"Parkman? Why Parkman? That motherfucker wanted me to rot, trapped me in my own head for _years,_ Claire."

His hand squeezed her ass tightly, lifting her against him where she felt his very stiff, very real arousal. She shivered. This was not going exactly as she had planned.

"He is also friendly with Peter, and has connections to resources we can't tap into without being caught. If he's working for the police, he can find people who can help us."

Gabriel paused, lips on her neck as he backed her against the wall.

"Okay," he said finally.

They stood there a bit longer, pressed against the wall so close she could feel his heart beating. When enough time had passed, Claire let out a long, loud moan. Gabriel stifled a laugh and whispered in her ear, "That's not at all what you sound like when you come," before following suit.

They finished washing and Claire pretended not to notice when he stayed behind to take care of his erection.

That night they slept in the same bed, facing opposite directions and trying to ignore the gaping space between them.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while- Mel just began job training, which is pretty much an all-day, every-day thing for the next two weeks, and Chuck's starting nursing school this month, which demands approximately 91% of her immortal soul. We're only human :(**

**On a happier note, thanks for all of your reviews and your continued support. It makes us super happy.**

**-Mel and Chuck**


	12. Intimidation

**Chapter Twelve: Intimidation**

Peter opened the door to the little bookstore, hoping that Gabriel was right and the place was secure. A small bell at the top of the door jangled, announcing his presence to anyone in the store. He was inexplicably relieved when he saw Gabriel talking to an old woman who looked as though she'd never smiled in her life. The tall man turned and tried to smile at his friend.

"Hi Peter," he said. The two embraced each other with an intimacy that suggested a deeply fraternal friendship. Years spent alone with each other in Gabriel's head had managed to burn away the hatred Peter had felt, replacing it with a truly unique relationship.

Gabriel finally pulled away, fixing a convincing smile on his face. "Let's browse the shelves and you can catch me up on your life." They moved among the books, aware that even if the shop wasn't bugged, they needed to appear more or less normal.

"So what's happening?" Peter asked, picking up random books and examining them. Gabriel gave him the rundown, summarizing where he could without leaving out any pertinent details. Peter was silent as he took in the information. It was really a shame Molly Walker wasn't still alive—she'd been shot in a drive-by over two years ago. With her ability, finding Noah would have been child's play.

When Gabriel had finished his explanation, Peter looked at him calmly, saying only, "What can I do to help?"

It wasn't always like Peter, Gabriel reflected, to ignore the injustice of a situation and focus only on solving the problem, regardless of the fact that if everything was fair, he wouldn't have to solve anything. Peter had changed since Gabriel had first met him—from a hopeless dreamer into someone a little more grown up. Someone who was willing to help without getting indignant about the wrongness of their current circumstance. Of course, once Noah was safe and it was time for retribution, Gabriel knew that he could count on Peter for that too.

"How's Claire doing?" Peter asked casually. Gabriel knew the question was bullshit—Peter kept in touch with her to the same extent he did her ex-husband—but it was Peter's way of trying to discern how the kidnapping had affected their relationship.

"She's coping with her son's disappearance, and apparently her latest boyfriend broke up with her," Gabriel answered. He paused for a moment before adding, "I've moved back in with her. Just until things get back to normal."

Peter's eyebrows went up, but he nodded. He had been close to them since the beginning and had seen all their best and worst moments. He'd been at their wedding (Gabriel's best man), he'd come to the hospital when Noah was born, and he'd witnessed the long divorce proceedings and the toll it had taken on both of them. He knew, probably better than anyone, that despite their disagreements they were an undeniably powerful couple.

"Someone is coming," Myrna grumbled from the sales counter, not raising her head from the book in front of her. Peter stepped back into a corner and disappeared.

Two men in dark suits and sunglasses walked into the store. Everything about them, from the earpieces down to the well-shined shoes, reminded Gabriel of the movie Men in Black. The thought made him chuckle, in spite of everything that was going on.

"Sir, in light of your past actions and your current predicament with the United States government, your prolonged presence here is classified as suspicious behavior. Would you mind explaining yourself?" Gabriel smirked; this man was obviously not up to speed on exactly who and what he was dealing with, and his by-the-book attitude was laughable.

"It's a bookstore," he said with scorn, gesturing with one hand. "The point is to come in and shop, or maybe sit and read if you have the time." When the man's expression didn't change, Gabriel leaned in a little and stage-whispered, "I know that people of your…caliber…may not have the time or inclination to read, but some of us are not so unburdened."

Myrna snorted from her seat by the register, but didn't look up. It did not amuse the men in black.

"You were seen entering this establishment with another man. Where is he?"

"Peter's in the bathroom," Gabriel said, jerking a thumb toward the back. "His birthday was recently, so we're spending some time together. Sometimes he has to get away from the old lady, if you know what I mean."

"We're watching you, Mr. Gray. You've only got, what, three days before you can see your son?" The second man lifted his sunglasses and winked at him. "Don't screw that up."

"We're just hanging out," Gabriel said calmly. "There's no need to get upset." He stood his ground, watching as they turned and left the store.

"They seem a little paranoid," Peter commented as he came back into view.

Gabriel's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "If you got on my bad side, you'd be paranoid too."

"Maybe I would," Peter laughed. They returned to the shelves, continuing their façade of book-buying. "I was worried for a minute there."

"They'd have to be unforgivably stupid to do anything here," Gabriel said, brushing off Peter's concern. "Myrna would never allow it."

"She a special?" Peter looked over at the woman, who acted as though government agents hadn't been in here minutes before.

"Not in the way you mean, no. But I'd like to meet the man who could defy her and not end up crippled for life."

"Well, look. I can talk to Matt, see if he can do anything. Maybe I can find a way to locate Noah or at least narrow down the possibilities, since you'll be busy playing the good little agent. I'll call you as soon as I can, let you know."

Gabriel nodded, hugging him. "Just remember that everything's being watched."

"Will do, man." And with that, Peter left, waving to the car that had been parked across the street the whole time they were talking.

"Try not to start anything in my shop," Myrna said darkly. "I will throw heaviest book I can find at you."

He laughed out loud at that, though she probably wasn't kidding. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Myrna.

"Here," she said, pulling a beaten-up paperback from under the counter. "Read about someone more screwed up than you." Gabriel looked down at it. The Silence of the Lambs.

"Thanks," he said, coughing back a snort of laughter. "How much?"

"Three-eleven."

He handed the woman her change, tucking the book under his arm. "Remember Dr. Chilton," she said to him before the door closed.

Gabriel took off into the air, holding tight to his purchase. His cell phone rang, and he paused mid-flight to answer it.

"How's Peter?" Claire asked. "And Myrna?"

"I've already left. Peter's fine," he answered, thinking that being so high in the air should automatically grant him the ability to be able to speak plainly, instead of having to act like everything was fine. "He's very busy, but he's doing well. Emma sends her love."

"That's great. Find anything good?"

"Thomas Harris. If you haven't read him, you should. He's very good."

"Okay, well, I was thinking that we should either go out to eat tonight or do something really simple for dinner. I don't feel like cooking."

"It's a little early to be worrying about that, isn't it?" he asked, only half-listening.

"I didn't think you were going to be done so early," she said, not really answering him. She sounded distracted, though that could have been stress. Neither of them had been sleeping very well.

"Some guys came in and wanted to know why we were buying books. Peter got worried and left," Gabriel said, for the benefit of whoever else was listening. Claire knew better than to think that her uncle would run away from trouble. "I think I might just chill for a while before I come home. Give us both a chance to be alone," he continued.

Claire hung up the phone, rubbing her temples. She didn't trust herself to see Peter and not burst out crying, so she had decided it was better if they didn't meet up at all. But she missed him, missed the days when she could hug him and have him tell her that everything would be okay. She missed the days when she believed that everything could be set to rights with enough time and work.

Those days were a long time ago.

Now she blinked hard and uncurled her body, getting off the bed and heading for the kitchen. Her mother had always found domestic work good for soothing bad feelings. Claire only wished she had more house to clean.

Gabriel was probably right, she reflected. As long as he was alone and not doing anything to get himself in trouble, it wouldn't kill them to make personal time for themselves. But even as she told herself that, she felt tears coming on, knowing that she was all alone in the home that once held three.

* * *

**A/N: Here's an update for the soul. We love you all. Please review! It keeps us motivated. :)**

**-Mel and Chuck**


	13. Visitation

**Chapter Thirteen: Visitation**

A week and six days after Noah had been taken, Claire and Gabriel sat in a small, windowless room in the basement of the Agency building. There were two chairs— both made of plastic and fantastically uncomfortable—and a small table with a desk-top computer in front of them. They sat silently, shifting in their seats and glancing at one another often with looks that held too much worry and not enough ease. They had been there for well over an hour, escorted by six armed guards into the room and locked in with orders to 'wait in those seats until you are given further instructions.'

"This is bull-shit," Gabriel swore, not for the first time since they'd arrived, "We've been here for over a damned hour."

Claire shrugged. "They promised," she said simply.

Gabriel scoffed. "Because their promises are stirling."

Claire shook her head. "I only meant that they know if they want to keep our cooperation, they have to give as well as take. They're not going to deny us this today."At least she hoped not. If she was being honest with herself, she doubted just as much as Gabriel, doubted that they would let them see Noah, doubted that they were giving her son the care and attention he needed… but one thing she wouldn't allow herself to doubt was that they would get him back, even if she had to personally gut every single person between her and her son when the time came.

What did that mean, her willingness to commit murder… her eagerness even? A younger Claire, a Claire before she had loved Gabriel, before she had given birth to Noah… would she have had the strength to kill? Would she have wanted to eviscerate as many people as she had to in order to save her father or her brother? Would she have looked forward to it as much as she did now? Claire had changed, but was it something to be worried about? She didn't think so; in fact, Claire thought that it made her stronger, a better woman and mother. Because she would get Noah back, and once she did, the people who had taken him would pay. She'd make sure of that.

Beside her, Gabriel let out an angry puff of air.

"We'll see him," Claire said, voice soft as she reached one pale hand out, setting it on his shoulder and squeezing softly. His muscles were tense beneath her hand.

"We'd better," Gabriel responded, jaw clenched and adams apple bobbing.

And then it happened. The monitor in front of them flickered. Once, twice… and then it was on.

"Gabriel, Claire." Gabriel growled low in his throat at the sound of a female voice as Selina's face appeared, smiling out at them. "So pleasant to see you this morning."

"Where is my son?" Gabriel asked, voice so low it was almost inaudible. Beside him, Claire stiffened and stared, eyes wide at the monitor and Selina's pale face.

"He's here with me," the woman said, glancing down and to her left, "aren't you, dear?"

"Is that Daddy, Lina?"At the sound of Noah's voice, Claire let out a sob she hadn't known she was holding, hands flying up to cover her mouth as her eyes grew blurry and her heart tried to fight its way out of her chest. Beside her, Gabriel shifted subtly closer to the screen, an expression so heartbreaking on his face that Claire felt a sudden surge of love for the man. It was hard not to under the circumstances, when he was sitting there next to her, his own tension mirroring hers and his emotions so close to the surface. Claire thought for a moment that this, this man of passion and longing and love… he was the man she'd fallen in love with.

"I'm right here, buddy," Gabriel called, voice half cracking as he inched closer to the screen, as if he expected to be able to crawl right through it.

"Hush, Noah, I'm talking," Selina chided the child, expression one of censure. Claire fought against the urge to strangle the woman and scream at her not to take that tone of voice with her son. "Now, where was I?" Selina said thoughtfully, "Oh yes. I'm just here to give you a few guidelines before the actual conference begins."

"Guidelines before we can see our own son," Claire practically sobbed, her emotions finally getting the better of her. Beside her, Gabriel wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and rubbing his hand softly against her arm.

Selina frowned. "Really, Claire, try to keep yourself in check. There's no need to upset the boy."

"No need to upset him?" Claire's voice was low and deadly. She had heard Gabriel use the same tone when she was a teen and he was a killer, and apparently it still worked, because Selina seemed to grow quickly uncomfortable. "You've kidnapped him and kept him from his parents and his home for two weeks and there's 'no need to upset him?" That's fucking rich."

"Claire," Gabriel warned, pulling her close and wrapping his other arm around her until they were pressed flush together and his lips were at her ear. "Keep calm, for Noah." Claire took several deep breaths, feeling Gabriel's lips still against the shell of her ear and focusing on the pleasant sensation before forcing her eyes open and gritting her jaw against the onslaught of profanity she was just barely holding in check.

"As I was saying," continued Selina, though she seemed slightly less sure of herself than she had just a few moments before. "There are a few guidelines you need to be aware of before this visit. All of the rules for public and private conduct you were given previously still apply. You are not to speak ill of either the Agency or the Institute. And you are under no circumstances to upset the child—"

"Can I see Mommy and Daddy now?" Noah spoke from off screen and Claire felt her stomach swirl.

Selina continued as if the boy hadn't spoken. "This is purely a social visit. Try to remember that."

"He's four," Gabriel muttered, "hardly old enough to plot with."

Selina raised a perfectly plucked auburn brow. "Be that as it may, those are the rules. Try to remember them."

Claire swallowed hard, nodded, and grabbed Gabriel's hand—the one not wrapped around her—hanging on for all she was worth.

The camera swiveled, the monitor went blurry and then startlingly clear as it focused on a small figure at Selina's side. He smiled wide as soon as he saw them, grinning that toothy grin and letting out an excited shriek.

"Mommy! Daddy!" Noah clapped his small hands together and bounced in his seat leaning forward to press his face to his screen, only to be pulled back by Selina and set firmly in his chair once more.

"Hey Baby," Claire said. She could feel her eyes well up with tears and her throat swell with the unshed tears. She could feel Gabriel's hand on hers, tight enough to betray his anxiety and the intense emotions he was holding back.

"Hi, Mommy," Noah waved and smiled some more. "I had chocolate cake after dinner."

Claire smiled, dabbing at her eyes quickly and then focusing all of her attention on her son once more.

"Was it good cake, Bud?" Gabriel asked from beside her, taking his arm from around Claire's shoulders and grabbing her hand with it, freeing his other to wipe at his own eyes. He would not let himself cry in front of his son.

"Yeah," Noah said, shrugging and then looking over at Selina. "Daddy, when can I come home? Lina says you and mommy are busy and so she's watching me. When are you not gonna be busy again?"

Gabriel swore under his breath and Claire hissed. The bitch. How dare she put this on them, tell their son that they were too _busy _for him? As if they didn't have time for him, as if it had been their choice to send him away. Claire decided in that moment that Selina would pay, and she would be the one to exact the payment. In blood preferably.

"Soon, Baby," Claire forced herself to say, "Mommy and Daddy will see you again just as soon as they can," she swallowed hard, "So what have you been doing there? Anything fun?"

Noah shrugged. "I watch tv sometimes. And Lina brought me hungry hippos yesterday after tests!" He seemed excited about the game, it was one of his favorites, but the word 'tests' stuck in his parents minds.

"What kind of tests, Noah?" Gabriel asked.

The boy shrugged. "I dunno. Like, getting shots and concentrating on stuff. Mommy, can I have a puppy when I come home?"

Claire half laughed half sobbed. "We'll see when you come home," she assured him, tapping her fingers across Gabriel's knee and swallowing hard. She cleared her throat. "Are they being nice to you, Sweetie?" She asked, her voice gone sober.

Noah shrugged.

Somewhere in the same room with Noah, there was a loud banging noise. The boy swiveled in his chair, head snapping to the side to see whatever had made the noise. That's when they saw it.

There, just behind his ear in the soft tissue of his child's neck, a black pattern on his skin. Claire had seen such patterns before, initials and numbers inked into the skin of specials they'd caught using their powers to break the law.

"What the fuck is that," she hissed violently. Gabriel clamped a hand over her mouth before she could say another word. Eyes wide, pulse racing, Claire couldn't think of anything else to say. How could they, how could they mark her son? Force black ink into his flesh and mark him like some sort of convict or animal. She'd kill them, every single one of the people involved in this. She would take a knife, the one her father had owned, and she would slaughter the whole lot of sorry mother-fuckers while the slept.

"It's time to say bye-bye, Noah," Selina spoke from off screen. Noah frowned, a little crease forming between his eyebrows.

"But I don't want to," he cried, looking very suddenly near tears.

"Noah," Gabriel said, voice commanding, loving. "You have to listen to her, Bud."

And then the boy started to cry. "I wanna come home, Daddy," He sobbed, chest beginning to heave as Selina's hand closed over his shoulder and the camera tilted up again, flooding the screen with her dark eyes and red hair.

"I love you, Son," Gabriel choked out. Claire felt something wet on her cheeks.

"Until next time, Gabriel," Selina said, and then the screen went blank and the door behind them banged open.

That night, laying across the large mattress in the master-bedroom, Gabriel held Claire close to him, letting her sob into his shirt as she vented her frustration, screaming periodically and banging her fists against her own thigh.

When she had quieted, she laid there, cheek pressed over Gabriel's heart as his hand twined with hers over his taut stomach.

"They marked him, Gabriel," she said, barely audible.

"I know," he said.

"I want them dead," she told him.

"They will be," he assured her.

Minutes of silence followed as they laid together, breathing in tandem until finally, Gabriel spoke.

"I think," he said, "I have an idea."

In his arms, against his chest, Claire stiffened. An idea. Ideas were good.

* * *

**A/N: We love you. Reviews are always welcome. That is all. **

**Mel and Chuck**


	14. The New Guy

**Chapter Fourteen: The New Guy**

Matt Parkman was surprised, to say the least, when Peter called and invited him to lunch. The call itself was not unusual, but last he'd heard Peter was still living in New York.

"L.A.'s kind of out of the way for you, isn't it?" he asked congenially as he and Peter shook hands. They sat at their table as a painfully thin teenage girl asked for their order. Matt asked for the Cobb salad without looking at the menu. He'd chosen the diner because he knew what they offered without having to read too many options. Dyslexia was a bitch.

"I need a favor," Peter said after the grungy waitress had left them, "and I thought it would be better if we could talk in person." His eyes moved about the room, as though he were looking for someone. "There's a lot I need to tell you, but I can't." He raised one eyebrow slightly, and Matt nodded, clearing his mind so he could focus on Peter's thoughts.

Someone could be listening in. I just want to be cautious. Matt nodded again, encouraging Peter to continue. The government has kidnapped my nephew. I need to find out where he is so we can get him back.

"You mean Claire's son," Matt said accusingly, though to his credit he kept his voice low, "Sylar's son."

Gabriel's a different person now, Matt. This is about Noah, and it shouldn't matter who his parents are. He's a four-year-old kid.

"And when you say 'the government'…?" Matt tried to clarify.

The Institute. But the Agency's got a stake in this now, too. Gabriel's gone back to work for them, and in return they don't hurt Noah.

Matt sat back, absorbing this information. His work with the police service had not blessed him with a blind faith in the integrity of the government—far from it. He was not bothered because despite his powerful ability, he clearly wanted nothing more than a quiet life with his wife and son, but he knew that the system was not above extreme measures if they were deemed to be necessary for the safety of the American public. And in the protection of the majority's peace of mind, sometimes individual rights were restricted or completely ignored.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked finally. "I'm just a cop in Los Angeles."

Exactly. You may not be in the middle of things, but you can find information that Claire and Gabriel can't. I guess the Department of Defense has them watched all the time: home, work, everywhere. If they start poking around, there will be retribution.

"What am I supposed to look for, if no one knows where he is or anything?"

Gabriel believes you won't have to think that big. If you can find Micah Sanders, I think it would solve a lot of problems. We can use him for the later stuff.

"Okay," Matt agreed reluctantly. "But if things start getting hot, I'm out. I've got my own family to think of."

Peter nodded. "I understand. And thank you. You do what you can, and it will be enough."

The waitress arrived with their food, popping her gum as she set their plates in front of them. Matt started in on his salad, grimacing. Sure, his cholesterol was high, but this just wasn't a hamburger.

There was another reason for Matt's frown, aside from his unsatisfying meal. He didn't say anything to Peter, but he was certain that finding Rebel wouldn't be as easy as Peter made it sound. Micah had never resurfaced after Claire's statement to the press—not that he'd been particularly prominent before then, but now it appeared that he was underground for good.

Actually, although neither man knew it, Micah Sanders was currently in Seattle, arranging new identities for a family in order to get them out of the country. Micah had a base of operations in the Midwest, but he was often traveling, assisting people where he could and minimizing published damage when he was too late. His childhood had given him a general distrust for the American government—as far as he was concerned, it was an organization that punished minor offenders and turned a blind eye to bigger problems. He enjoyed his ability to move freely, invisible as far as most people knew.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, Gabriel was having another shit day. Not that any of his days had been good in a long time, he reflected, but sometimes the universe seemed more determined than usual to screw him over.

He had stayed late under the pretense of catching up on paperwork. It did need doing, but it was the kind of stuff that easily could have waited until morning. He really just wanted to prolong the time before he had to go back to his old house, where his son was missing and his ex-wife struggled every night to hold back her tears. His beautiful, fiery, incredible Claire.

Gabriel mentally chastised himself. It was thoughts like that that kept sneaking up on him and causing confusion. She wasn't really his anymore, and living with her again made it increasingly difficult to remember that. He redirected his attention to the report he was writing, trying to ignore the thought of Claire at home alone.

As if his evening wasn't bad enough, Ricky came through the door with his characteristic smile. Company. Perfect.

"Hey, man," he greeted, stopping by Gabriel's desk. "Thought you were headed home."

That was what he'd told Ricky, after the two of them had finished another field assignment that ran a little later than office hours. They made a good team on the job, Ricky being the defense and Gabriel providing the hopefully-unnecessary offense. Honestly, he just hadn't wanted Rick to suggest that they grab a drink or something equally sociable, as he seemed wont to do.

"Yeah, I just…changed my mind. Wanted to get the report done," he replied lamely.

Ricky took in his colleague's tired face, the tense posture, and his disheveled hair (a product of Gabriel's frustrated hands running through it over and over again). "Wanna take a few shots?" he offered cheerfully.

Gabriel stared uncomprehendingly. "Why?" he managed finally.

"You seem kinda stressed out. I could take it, if you felt like you needed to shoot some lightning bolts or whatever." He wiggled his fingers. "Chill out, you know?"

His face was open and innocent; Ricky was as easy to read as a children's book—and about as complicated. Not a bad guy, Gabriel thought, just a little simple.

"Thank you, Rick, but I think I'll pass. I'm almost done here anyway."

"Okay," he replied easily. "I'll just wait for you. I don't have anything else to do."

"No family?" Gabriel asked, and immediately regretted it. He didn't want Rick to think they were friends. They weren't.

"Nope, not yet," Ricky said. "I just haven't met Miss Right. You?"

Gabriel rubbed his face, trying to remember that the younger man meant well. "Um…it's complicated. I'm trying to work things out with my ex-wife right now. Our son is with my mother while we try to figure us out."

The blonde head nodded. "I know what that's like. My parents got divorced when I was eight. Your boy will appreciate you and your ex making the effort."

Gabriel didn't say anything; he somehow doubted that Noah would ever appreciate his forcible removal from his parents, but again, that wasn't really Ricky's fault.

"How old is he?"

Pulling out his wallet, Gabriel showed his coworker a picture of the smiling boy, the same picture he had shown Selina. "Noah's four."

Ricky smiled down at the picture as though Noah could see him from out of the wallet-size. "He looks like a great kid. You're lucky." That simple compliment stayed with him as they rode the elevator up to the ground floor.

"See you later, Gabe," Ricky called as Gabriel flew into the air, headed for home.

D.C. was beautiful at night. Slowly the sight of the lights below him and the stars above helped him relax, so that by the time he landed he was breathing easy.

Claire looked up as he came in, sweeping her hair back from her face. "Hey. There's leftovers in the fridge, or you can have a sandwich."

"Thanks," he said, tossing his suit jacket onto a kitchen chair. He watched Claire draw her legs up onto her seat, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked like the woman he'd fallen in love with, instead of the harpy that he'd spent hours fighting, leading to their divorce. With her hair loose, wearing baggy pajamas…she was unbearably pretty.

"Did you have a good day?" she asked him, half in sarcasm and half in the hope that the two of them could get through one day without feeling completely beaten.

He looked up from his cold dinner, watching her fiddle with her hair. "Yeah. It was okay."

It didn't matter that it wasn't one hundred percent true. It was worth it to see her smile just a little.


End file.
